


Break Me Down, The Framework's Shot

by themthere_taterthings



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista!Steve, Eventual Romance, F/M, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, M/M, Mechanic!Tony, Parent!Tony, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Domestic Violence, Slow Build, Superfamily, eventual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themthere_taterthings/pseuds/themthere_taterthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's running from his heartbreak with his young son, determined to never date again but to throw himself into his work at the mechanic shop. Steve is equally determined to date Tony, but can't get close to the man and the mystery is only making him more intrigued...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic focuses on a somewhat broken Tony who is trying his best but has pretty unhealthy coping mechanisms for his loss. Eventual Stony...

Tony closed the door with a sigh before leaning his back against it and allowing himself to slide down until his legs were stretched out before him on the floor. His head fell back with a dull _thunk_ and his eyes closed. For a moment, he was content to wallow in misery and his wet jacket.

His cell phone buzzed in his pants pocket but he ignored it. _Wallowing_ , he told himself. Then it buzzed again. Then again, a minute later. Eyes flashing open in irritation, he pulled it out.

Inbox (3)

Pepper Potts: How’s the date going?!!

Pepper Potts: Text / call me as soon as you get home!!

Pepper Potts: Don’t worry about the time change, I’ll be up! J

Hitting the call button would be much less painful than trying to explain his horrendous evening via text, so he pressed it and braced for an awkward conversation.

“Tony! You’re home already?! Tell me about the date? Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

He smiled in spite of himself. Pepper’s exuberance was infectious despite most situations and his own tendency to indulge in self-pity.

“Hey to you too, Pepper. Are you sure you have time to chat? Aren’t you at work?” he was dodging, trying halfheartedly to avoid re-living his evening. Apparently, Pepper wasn’t in a mood to accommodate that wish.

“I’m on break, Tony and it’s the night shift. Nothing much is happening, I guarantee. Now spill.” Her tone went from its normal honey and sweetness to one that brooked no argument.

“Ok, spilling,” he took a deep breath and jumped right into it. Just like a band-aid, the faster you rip it the less it hurts. That was almost scientifically proven, right? “So, he picked me up and we went to this amazing little Italian joint I’ve never heard of. A real classy joint.”

“Aww, that sounds great! What did you wear? Please tell me it wasn’t a button down over a band tee.”

“I wore my suit, Pep, don’t worry. The navy one? The only suit I have?” Tony rolled his eyes. The woman was on the other side of the country and still knew his wardrobe better than he did.

“Excellent choice, I approve,” Pepper’s voice was practically beaming with pride. Obviously, the only thing that counted toward being an adult was dressing like one. Who would have known?

“Dinner was great, delicious. I haven’t had a meal like that in a long time.” If he was being honest with himself, the food was probably the highlight of the evening. He hesitated, not eager for this bit of the story. “But then David threw a little temper tantrum and walked out, leaving me with the bill.”

A pause. “Tony, people don’t just throw tantrums in public. What did you do?” Cringing, he fought back his disappointment and anger. None of this was his fault! Not this time, anyway.

“Uh, your sister about 4 years ago, apparently,” he bit out, somewhat scathingly.

Stunned silence echoed through the phone. When Pepper finally overcame her shock, her voice was gentle. “Oh Tony. I’m so sorry, I knew you really liked him.” The sympathy almost made it worse, and he scrunched up his face to keep the threatening tears at bay.

“Four months, Pep,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to hold. “I thought he was ready to meet Peter, but he just left. He just walked out on me.” Suddenly all the stress from the past few months reared its ugly head and he struggled to catch his breath. “I had to catch the bus home and barely had enough cash to pay the babysitter. I can’t do this, Pepper. I don’t know how I’ve _been_ doing it. I can’t do this without her.” Finally, he let go and allowed the tears to fall and for small noiseless sobs to wrack his body. He pulled his knees up to rest his forehead on, hiding his shame from the empty apartment.

After a few minutes, he pulled himself back together. He shouldn’t fall apart like that while talking to Pepper, she didn’t need to deal with his issues. “Pep? Are you still there?”

“Of course, honey. I’m still here. I’ll always be here for you. You have no idea how much I wish I could give you a hug right now. Or punch that guy! Right in the nards with my pointiest shoes!” A ghost of a laugh escaped at that.

“Pepper, only pubescent boys say ‘nards’ but thank you for the sentiment anyway.” Absently, he wiped the wetness from his cheeks.

“In all seriousness, Tony, you should move out to New York. I can’t help you from across the country. And it would be an entirely new dating pool!” Pepper wheedled. She’d been hinting at him moving closer for months. He’d been refusing on the principle that he didn’t need help to support his own family, but he could maybe admit that he needed a bit of support himself. This phone call alone had been surprisingly cathartic.

“I’ll think about it, Pep. Seriously, I will, but I don’t think I’m ready to date again. This thing with David just proved that it’s too soon. I’m not ready and obviously the world’s not ready for Peter.”

“Thanks, Tony. That’s all I’m asking, but I’d worry less if you were here and I’d love to hug my nephew more often.”

“I know, and he’d love it too,” Tony sighed. He felt completely wrung out from his emotional night. “Well, I’m gonna hit the sack, I’ll let Peter call you tomorrow around lunch, ok?”

“Ok, Tony, sleep well. I love you,” and Pepper hung up before he could respond.

The wetness of his jacket was finally registering as uncomfortable and he was a little chilled. _Time to get your ass off the floor, then Tony,_ his thoughts mocked. He stood, shrugged out of his suit jacket, and hung it on the rack beside the door. The white button down he wore underneath was slightly damp, too. A hot shower was definitely being added to the evening’s to-do list, slotted right underneath seeing his son.

The babysitter had been surprised to see him home so early, but said Peter had gone to bed at his normal time after playing with his dinosaurs and been read a story. Tony kept most of the lights off as he navigated to Peter’s room; they’d lived in this apartment for several years and not much had changed so the only danger was tripping over toys.

Peter was asleep in his bed, dinosaur print comforter halfway on the floor. His small pale face with its messy mop of brown hair just visible from where it was tucked behind the giant stuffed green dinosaur teddy he loved. Tony couldn’t help but smile. He walked in silently and pulled the blankets back onto the bed. Pressing a kiss to his son’s cheek, perfectly round the way small children’s always are, he decided that moving would be good for them. Peter deserved to have more people around who loved him, no more random dates or string of unfamiliar babysitters. It hurt to admit but Peter needed more _family_ and Tony wasn’t about to back away from that challenge.

Tony reluctantly tore himself away from watching Peter’s sleeping face to haul himself to the shower. He stripped quickly, leaving his suit on the floor to deal with later, his mind was already racing with logistics regarding the big move. Firstly, he’d have to find a job; he wasn’t keen on a coast to coast move with no safety net. With his current financial situation, he’d probably have to sell the car in order to rent a moving van. He added in the fees for breaking his lease and grimaced, he’d have to eat lean for a few weeks, but that wasn’t a big deal.

Hadn't Thor ended up in Brooklyn? He’d met Thor maybe ten years prior when they both ended up working at a mechanic shop in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico. Thor had stopped because of a girl and Tony because he ran out of money. He was pretty sure he still had the man’s contact info. He’d email in the morning to see if he knew of any work out there.

Decision made and to-do lists outlined, he allowed himself to relax. He turned the water up as hot as he could handle, skin prickling with almost-pain. It burned along his colder extremities, fingers and toes and he relished it, letting it take his mind away from his emotions so that he could tuck them down and away. This wasn’t the time to indulge himself, he’d already had his few minutes to wallow. It was time to pull himself together and move on. _What had Pops always said? Oh yeah, Stark men are made of iron._


	2. Chapter 2

In through the nose, out through the mouth; inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth.

Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

The crisp fall air felt so pure, so cool in his lungs. Steve loved running in the fall, it was nearly effortless on mornings like this: the only light coming from the barest hint of sunrise and flickering streetlights. The only sound the steady _thwack thwack_ of his well-worn Nike’s on the pavement and the smooth pattern of his breathing.

He could run forever like this with no stress haunting and prodding at the back of his head, no emotions raging against his carefully erected barriers. Action was always his forte and he reveled in the physicality of exertion. It was an outlet he desperately needed after his turbulent thoughts had sent him jerking out of sleep at 0300 hours. It was becoming an almost daily occurrence now and he knew he should call Sam and talk it out, but he couldn’t admit defeat, not yet. More time, he just needed more time to adjust.

It made him angry. It was irrational and useless but his therapists had said it was normal. He was angry at himself, at Bucky for what he’d become and at himself again for blaming Bucky, for needing so much time to adjust. He kept trying to live, to move on if that was what he had to do, but in the end he felt like he was just waiting. For what, he couldn’t say.

In reality, he knew he could maybe do another five miles so he angled himself toward his Brooklyn apartment. The sun was coming up in earnest, now; the bright and overwhelming oranges and pinks shining in his eyes. It warmed his heart a tiny bit, loaned him a wisp of hope, maybe he wouldn’t be waiting much longer.

Taking a deep breath he picked up his pace.

Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

***

After his impromptu (but somehow, regularly occurring) early morning run, Steve showered and spent an hour trying to capture his sunrise on paper. There had been something unique about this particular morning and he tried to portray with bold jutting color through the desolate emptiness of the page the suddenness with which emotion had hit him. Before he had time to second guess it and crumple it into the trash, it was time to head to his shift at the coffeehouse.  

There was nothing even remotely resembling a Starbucks in this ramshackle neighborhood, but the coffee shop at which Steve worked was small, well-lit, heated, and served up plenty of caffeine. It was famous (within a four block radius, that is) for its house blend regular coffee. It was unclear which came first, the shop or the drink, because the coffee shop was called simply, ‘The House’.

Once the initial opening bustle was over and the rash of nine-to-fivers off to their public transportation method of choice, caffeine in hand, there were a couple hours of pure boredom for Steve. The late morning crowd would likely be another hour, so he was busy re-organizing the sugar table for the third time that day.

“Hey Steve, looks like there’s a delivery out back. Would you mind?” Natasha, the red-haired barista who opened with him most weekdays asked. He nodded, grateful for a distraction before he starting stewing again. She was surprisingly perceptive when it came to things like that.

He took his time unloading and documenting the delivery, sorting the perishables, and taking out the recyclables before Natasha poked her head out the screen door to say, “Yo Steve, I think I’m gonna take my break, you should come see to the latest customers,” with a hint of something mischievous in her voice. He knew exactly what that tone indicated: some hottie had just come in that she thought Steve needed to see.

She’d been trying to fix him up with someone for a while. Since moving back to New York, he’d been on dates with about six different people, none of them leading anywhere of note but it was always fun to commentate on hot guys with Nat.

A loud voice drifted back to him, apparently half of an argument as Natasha melted out of the back. She was freakishly sneaky for a woman with flaming red hair.  

“Thor! No, you stop right there. You said you needed a mechanic not a – “ a pause, this must be telephone argument and the man in the coffee shop sounded like he was just about at the end of his rope.

“There’s no furniture, no tools, there’s not even internet! I can’t do _mechanic things_ without a fully functional shop in which to do them.” Steve came through to the front and was struck dumb for a moment.

The man on the phone was attractive. Scratch that, he was _really fucking_ attractive. It helped that he was bouncing around the café in an agitated manner while talking, giving Steve a full 360 view. He was on the shorter side, compact and muscular, with an honest to God bubble butt. Yeah, Steve believed he was a mechanic.

The hottie had a great skin tone, darkly olive with rich brown-black hair that was probably at the tail end of needing a cut as it curled gently at the end. Steve didn’t know if his fingers were itching for want of a sketching pencil or to twirl those curls between his fingers. The immaculate goatee was just the icing on the cake, hinting that this guy was Trouble.  

There was nothing that intrigued Steve more than trouble.

“Fine! Thor, shut up! I said fine! I will start up your stupid shop and then manage it, but I’m doing it my way or I’m walking away. Capisce? Now, the first thing Papa Odin’s buying for this new endeavor is my daily caffeine fix. _And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!_ ” The last bit was yelled triumphantly into the phone before the man ended the call and put his phone away with a huge grin on his face. “Darcy, if you would, please, the credit card,” he intoned, extending his hand and bowing toward the young brunette woman with him.

Steve had been so busy drooling over the guy, he hadn’t even noticed the woman, just about as tall as the guy and a few years younger. He looked her over with an artist’s eye, noting the contrast of her dark hair and pale skin; bright red lipstick and thick black glasses. Buxom, too; _Bucky would love her_ , he thought before he could stop himself.

She cackled, “Stark, you’re a freak. I am going to have so much fun working for you.” Opening up a large brown rucksack she pulled out a wallet and handed a red card to the man.

“Back at ya, Tator Tot,” hottie (Stark) replied with a wink as he approached the counter, and Steve.

Steve made sure his eyes were where they were supposed to be and not taking a pleasurable rove down the mechanics body and smiled as blindingly as he could. The other man’s smirk from a moment before slipped slightly in response. “Hi, what can I get started for you?” he said cheerfully, keeping the smile and preening slightly inside.

“Uhh… Hi. Yeah. Uh, I’ll have a coffee, large, whatever’s darkest and a caramel latte with an extra shot,” the man said, pulling himself together after a few moments. Steve knew very well that his smile could make people weak in the knees. Army dental was good for something…

“That’ll be seven-fifty. Can I get a name for your order?”

“Tony,” He handed the credit card over, with a small head flip to get a lock of hair out of his eyes. _Gorgeous eyes_ , Steve thought.

“So, Tony, you’re a mechanic? Does this have anything to do with the empty building down on the corner?” Steve asked as he prepared the simple coffee.

“Yeah, actually. A buddy of mine bought it in a fit of insanity. He’s got a great idea but he doesn’t have a head for business, let alone the mechanics business. I mean, the first person he hired is the front desk manager,” Tony gestured towards the brunette girl, who was getting a couple laptops set up over at the squishy leather couch. “Who does that? That’s the last thing you need! It’s definitely more important to have tools and mechanics. Oh, and internet! Suffice it to say, you’ll probably be seeing us a lot until we open up since you have one of those and we have none.”

Steve let the guy ramble as he got the latte ready. It was pleasant to chat, most customers stood far away, staring at their phones rather than talk to him. “I don’t think I’d object to seeing you more often, Tony,” Steve said as he held out the finished drinks.

Tony looked flabbergasted. “Uh, thanks, but you might regret that in a few days,” he eventually spit out, shrugging self-deprecatingly.

“We’ll see,” Steve smiled again, a little softer, like it was just for Tony. Tony’s eyes widened a fraction before he smiled nervously in return and walked away.

Steve turned to see Nat watching him from the other end of the counter, looking so much like that cat that caught the canary. When had she shown up?

“I guess you don’t need my help getting dates after all, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Nat. We were just having a friendly conversation. He’s new to the neighborhood.” Innocent, he’s just an innocent Brooklyn boy.

Nat snorted, unladylike, and punched him in the shoulder. “Punk.”

Steve looked over at Tony again. He was seated on the couch with his co-worker, sharing earbuds, and arguing audibly over office furniture. Steve got the feeling that this challenge was exactly what he’d been waiting for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and the ergonomically correct office chairs (plus some playtime with Peter and adventures in apartment hunting)!

Tony pulled up the final resume that Thor had sent over the previous day and settled into his squeaky, ergonomically correct, overly expensive and brand new office chair to review. Darcy had demanded that they spend the extra money for the monstrosities, despite his very valid argument that mechanics didn’t really spend that much time sitting on their asses and that every other aspect of that career choice was shitty on the body’s calisthenics.

 _It is a damn comfy chair, though_ , he admitted to himself, almost groaning aloud as he stretched out his tense shoulders and rolled his head in large, lazy circles. He was also just plain grateful to have furniture so that they didn’t have to spend quite so much time at the House.

Though he loved the smell of coffee, he couldn’t afford to buy it by the cup at the rate he drank it. Besides, as much as the blonde behind the counter liked to flirt, Tony still hadn’t gotten a single free cup out of him; an indicator that not dating was the right idea if he was really that rusty. Pathetic.

Thor had sent over an electronic stack of resumes for mechanics that his father approved of; Tony had a whole other set of resumes that had found their way directly to Tony courtesy of the gossip grapevine. It had been left up to him to decide how many additional mechanics to hire, anticipating the initial demand for business and taking into account busier weekends. He was thinking four plus him and maybe another receptionist with at least part-timers to pinch hit and jump in on weekends and rush jobs.

Darcy was actually a part time college student, studying political science apparently and was busy with school stuff on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so maybe he would find another and have the two of them rotate weekends.

Reluctantly, Tony pushed away the scheduling thoughts; _scheduling is currently Priority #7 on the list, focus, Tony!_ He wished there was someone other than his own mental voice to help keep him on track, maybe they’d offer a better pep talk, too.

The last resume was for a woman named Sif… wait that was familiar. Right, she’d been working in New Mexico with Thor at about the same time Tony had blown through town. She was good and could out drink and out-brawl Tony, even. Without bothering to read the remainder, he moved the document to the ‘Hire’ file and marked the whole affair off of his to-do list.

Switching gears, he pulled up his spreadsheet with stats and contact information for local apartments. The housing situation was quickly becoming desperate. He loved Pepper but they were going to kill one another if they had to share a bathroom for much longer.

Not to mention that having another person around was really messing up the routine that he and Peter had established. There was nothing more discordant to everyday life than a perpetually grumpy three and half year old.

One of the listings caught his eye; a small two bedroom affair on the second floor of a building that was only a couple blocks from the shop. Proximity was a major ticket item now that he had no car and had to include bus fees into the grocery budget. Life was a massive pain in the ass sometimes. Even better, the monthly payment was right up his alley.

Peeking out the window of the small ‘Manager’s Office’ that he was parked in, he checked that Darcy had indeed left a few hours ago. He dialed up the listed number on his cell quickly. A kindly, gentle voice answered after a few rings; he’d began to think he’d be leaving a message.

“Hi there, I’m Tony Stark and I was calling about the apartment that was listed in the newspaper,” he said trying to channel as much charm and trustworthiness into his voice as possible without being obvious. “If it’s still available, I was wondering if I could look at it.”

“Yes, of course! I’m May Parker, I own the complex. And the apartment is still available. When would you like to come see it?”

Tony could hardly stop from cheering aloud at his luck. “Uh, would tomorrow be too soon? Possibly before nine?”

“That’s fine, dearie. Come to apartment 1A at nine,” she replied before saying her goodbyes.

Once off the phone, Tony let out a loud whoop and threw his arms in the air, allowing his fancy chair to spin in a lackluster circle. He texted Darcy to let her know that she wouldn’t be needed until lunchtime the next day. No point in having her hang around with nothing to do while he was off taking care of this.

***

Pepper usually only worked at the hospital four days a week, taking the exhausting 6pm to 6am shift. Needless to say, she was as put-out as Tony when she had to go in for a meeting. It wasn’t a huge deal, but it meant that Tony had to take Peter with him as he looked at the apartment and Peter was not a big fan of the bus.

The bus was loud and stuffy and the two of them were almost always stared at. Maybe it was the paisley pink and brown diaper bag Tony had thrown over his shoulder. It wasn’t manly by a long shot. Peter wasn’t in diapers anymore, but he still needed a wide variety of _things_ and Tony did not carry a purse.

Tony tried to make the trip as painless as possible, sitting by the window with Peter in his lap, bouncing him gently on a knee to minimize the jarring when the bus hit a particularly offensive pothole. They played with one of Peter’s dinosaurs and counted how many yellow cab cars passed by, but after the forty minute trip from Pepper’s place, his baby boy was fighting back tears and sniffling.

They stopped a little bit in front of the first floor apartment that read ‘1A’ in font-less gold lettering. Tony set Peter on the ground and knelt by him, using a tissue to wipe away the escaped tears and running snot. He then smoothed back the boy’s cowlick and cupped his son’s head in both hands.

“You were such a brave big boy on the bus today. I’m so proud of you, Peter,” he said, kissing his favorite round cheeks and forehead. _Positive reinforcement and encouragement, that’s what the parenting books say,_ and he prayed it would work. He never wanted to be like his own father and tell Peter to stop crying, but he didn’t want to scare away this landlady with a wailing child.

“Young man, there’s a park not that far from here. I’m sure if you continue being such a good boy, your daddy would take you there,” a woman’s voice interrupted from a few feet away.

Tony startled, looking up to see a small, white-haired woman standing in the doorway of 1A. She was smiling brightly down at Peter and extended that warmth to Tony when she met his own eyes. Peter’s entire body lit up with excitement, energy and happiness suddenly barely contained by his tiny body.

“Daddy, we play at ‘e park?” he whispered, exuberance not quite overcoming his shyness in front of this stranger.

It had been entirely too long since he and Peter had any quality playtime together, let alone outside, so he agreed. “Yeah, buddy, we’ll go play at the park. After I talk to Mrs. Parker, ok?”

Peter nodded giving Tony his own still fairly gummy smile, “Ok, Daddy.”

Tony stood, sweeping Peter up into is arms to rest on one hip, and extending his hand to shake Mrs. Parker’s. She didn’t take it, eyeballing the snotty tissue he was still holding with a straight face and a lone raised eyebrow.

Tony flushed and withdrew his hand, shoving the tissue into a pocket. “Oops, sorry about that,” he started but was waved off with a careless gesture.

“Not a problem at all. It’s nice to meet you anyway Mr. Stark,” she said. “Let’s take a look at that apartment, shall we?”

The apartment was perfect, pretty much the same size as their last place and by the end of the tour Peter was crawling all over the good-hearted and gracious landlady. Tony kept trying to pull him away and apologize but she would have none of it.

Apparently, she was a recent widow who’d never had a chance for kids but loved them dearly. Tony couldn’t pass on the apartment; it was obvious that Peter had made a friend of this compassionate soul, so he told May that they would take it.

Sensing that time at the park was near, Peter starting tugging at Tony’s shirt and pants with ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy’ on repeat. They quickly made arrangements; Tony wrote out a check for the deposit, signed the tenant agreement, and said they’d be in the following weekend. May even shook his hand as they concluded, and Peter’s as well when he offered.

***

They spent so long at the park that Pepper had to come pick Peter up as there wasn’t time for the bus ride back.

Tony was so happy that he’d found them a place to live with a wonderful landlady he was flying Peter over his head and jogging around the playground, grinning like a madman. He put Peter up on the slide and watched him go down over a hundred times and pushed him on the swings.

Peter was wiped when Pepper arrived, content to sit on Tony’s lap on a bench in the shade sucking on a fruit puree pouch that was in the diaper bag.

Tony took a moment to bask in his happiness; it wasn’t common for him to forget about everything and simply enjoy his life, his family. So he took a moment to commit Peter’s shrieks of joy to memory before walking to the shop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's having a rough day, but gains some allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a chapter! It's longer and I like it, hope you all do as well :)

Steve jerked out of sleep with a shaking, heaving gasp; a drowning man seeking that last bit of air as his only hope of salvation. It took a moment for his ears to register the early morning silence of his apartment and for the phantom screaming of his best friend to fade away into the backwaters of his mind.

“Bucky,” he whispered hoarsely into the darkness. Leaning over, he blindly grabbed his phone from the nightstand. It lit the room harshly in blue electric tones: **02:47**. That was it. No new messages.

He didn’t mean to, didn’t want to, but he mentally added another tally to the list. 147 days since he’d last spoken to Bucky. The screen blurred momentarily but he wiped the tears away before they could fall. _Forget about it_ , he thought, _Time and distance. He just needs more time. What was one more day in the grand scheme of things anyway?_

Brushing away his thoughts was not as easily done as with his tears, but he tried to focus on something positive. He would see Tony this morning and maybe the other man would even respond to Steve’s flirting. He could definitely use a little shameless flirting today. Maybe the guy wasn’t interested, but thinking of Tony made it easier to drag himself out of bed.

So, he kept the image of energetic brown eyes and impish goateed grin in the forefront of his mind as he went about his ‘normal’ morning routine. It was a desperate attempt to keep the pervading depression from taking over, but lately he hadn’t bothered at all. _Even small improvements are worth celebrating_ , he parroted his therapist to himself as he laced up his running shoes.

He ran, channeling his overstimulated emotions into physical activity which was usually a fairly effective method for clearing his head. Today was definitely turning out to be **_one of those days,_** as it only served to convert it to anger. By the time he rolled into the coffee house at 04:30, he was fuming. It was useless anger, directionless yet pointed at everything and everyone when he knew it was really aimed at himself. Of course, psychology wouldn’t be a professional field of study if it was as easy to know that as it was to accept and change that. Not wanting to put his therapist out of a job, Steve made no attempt to cheer himself up. A pep talk wasn’t gonna cut it this morning.

Natasha picked up on his mood straight away, and left him to mope with a terse, “You’re on drinks, Rogers. I’ll handle the register. Can’t have you scaring the customers away with that kind of scowl.” It was true, though; Steve was in a funk and Nat could fake a smile better than anyone else.

He was looking forward to Tony coming in though, accepting defeat and allowing himself to glance hopefully at the door every time a new customer comes in. But Tony didn’t show up at his usual time and Steve’s mood plummeted downhill as the morning drug. By lunch he’s so upset he feels that he’s coming apart, his control frayed and unraveling.

The shop was empty when the door swung open for Darcy to breeze in. He perked up, if Darcy was here, Tony wasn’t far behind.

“Hey, morning Darcy!” Steve says, smiling genuinely for the first time that morning.

“Sup Steve-o,” she replied with an exaggerated head nod, dumping her book bag on the counter near the register and climbing atop one of the barstools. She didn’t sit but stood on the rungs to shove her head over the multitude of flavored syrups and into his space.

He handed her a medium caramel latte with an extra shot. “Don’t forget to pay Natasha before you leave,” he said, shooting her a serious look that bounced right off of her.

“Aww, Stevie, you know my drink! This is why you’re my favorite barista! Or is it baristo?” She asked brightly, finally putting butt to chair.

Steve was surprised when he chuckled. He shouldn’t have been, he honestly liked Darcy. She was quirky, fun, the perfect mix of levity and inanity in one animated package. “I don’t know, Darcy. I’m taking art classes, not literature. So no Tony today?”

Darcy may have missed the tightness of his tone, but Natasha certainly hadn’t if the sudden head turn and stare boring into the side of his head was any indicator. “He had some personal stuff to take care of this morning, but he’ll be around later. I totally don’t blame him for taking the morning off. Dude’s been running himself ragged lately.”

“What do you mean? The shop hasn’t even opened yet, how busy can you be?” Steve asked, honestly curious. He knew nothing about mechanics or entrepreneurship.

“Well, so, Thor, the owner. He’s a super sweet guy, he’s dating my roomie, Jane, be-tee-dubs. He’s pretty smart and his dad has this whole chain of mechanic shops but he’s more of a big picture guy. He’s training to take over the whole shebang. So, the shop down the street literally had nothing in it when Tony and I got there.

It was pretty funny actually, I thought Tony had stolen everything and he thought I was squatting on the property. Believe me, I’m never wearing that outfit again. Hobo is not a good look!” Darcy paused to take a sip of her drink and wait, as Steve stepped away to fix up a latte for another customer.

“Anyway, Thor wants the grand opening to be in a couple weeks and Tony’s really the only guy who knows how to run a place like that so he’s been doing the work of like four people. I do my best to help but I’ve got school and stuff. It sucks, I can’t wait until we’re open.”

Wow, Steve really felt like an underachiever. He had no idea Tony was so busy, maybe that was why he hadn’t really responded to Steve’s flirting. “I guess I missed that. He never seems that tired to me,” Steve said.

Darcy nearly exploded. “What?! Have you not seen my Instagram? Hashtag ‘sleepyboss’ is like fifty percent of what I post nowadays! Here, look!” She shoved her phone at Steve, forcing him to take it.

He scrolled through: food, food, cat, nails, _Tony._ Sure enough with #sleepyboss, was a picture of Tony asleep on a squishy looking sofa, laptop on his stomach, head reclined, expression relaxed. Steve’s stomach flipped. _God, he’s gorgeous. Wait, is that the House couch?_

“Darcy, where did you take this?” he asked, showing her the picture in question.

“Oh that, Tony loves the couch here! I’m pretty sure half my photos are of him over there. I guess he usually runs out of steam in the afternoon, that’s why you haven’t seen it in action.”

Steve was oddly disappointed that he’d never seen Tony fall asleep here. Was that creepy? Probably not as much as Darcy’s photography habits. There were over forty pictures on here of Tony. He scrolled through, not aware that he was smiling.

When he finished and looked up, he jumped at Natasha’s proximity. “Hey Nat,” he said, sheepishly handing Darcy her phone back.

Natasha stood facing him from only a foot away, arms crossed, and a knowing smirk on her face. “So Tony’s the guy you’ve been moping over. I should’ve guessed, the way you were drooling over him that first day.” She sounded serious, but her smile had turned playful.

He thought about denying it, but where would that get him? Maybe he could use this to his advantage, since getting Tony’s attention on his own was less than successful so far. “I don’t mope, Natasha. I brood. It’s much manlier,” he said nudging her shoulder with his own. “But yes, I think the drooling thing was accurate.”

She and Darcy both laughed.

“So, Darcy, is Tony seeing anyone?” Natasha asked the brunette, returning to business.

“Honestly, I don’t know for sure. The guy’s very protective about his personal life, but he doesn’t act like he’s got a lady. Or a guy.” Darcy tapped her cheek in thought. “Have you tried asking him out?”

Steve blushed. “Actually, yeah, but I don’t think he realized what I was asking. I asked if he had weekend plans a couple weeks ago and he went off on a tangent about having to drive all the way to Jersey for some equipment auction.”

“Oh yeah, Tony was really pissy that Monday,” Darcy added. “I’ll bet that if you ask after the shop’s open and he has some time to breath he’d say yes.”

“I’ve got an idea. Darcy, could Thor possibly be convinced to throw a little private party after the grand opening to celebrate? You’d have to get us on the guest list, somehow of course,” Natasha shrugged one shoulder.

“OMG! Natasha you’re a flippin genius! Thor loves parties, almost as much as he loves Jane. I’ll drag him in here to meet you guys. He has to see the shop at some point and he’ll be your friend in like two seconds.” Darcy was practically bouncing in her seat. “The real problem will be getting Tony to do something fun for once!”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Nat cut in, gesturing to the front entrance with her head. “The guest of the hour’s just arrived.”  

Steve turned to see Tony walking in, looking far too fetching in tight jeans and a button up with the sleeves pushed back to the elbows. He hadn’t seen Tony in anything fancier than graphic tee shirts and stained denim, but a large chunk of his mind was now imagining Tony dressed in a wide variety of styles: suit, tux, nothing at all… _Woah, stay in the moment, man!_

“Hey Tony!” he said cheerfully, luckily his voice wasn’t half as strangled as he expected it to be

“Morning Tony, I thought you said you wouldn’t be here until lunch?” Darcy said, moving some of her stuff so Tony could take the stool next to hers.

“My appointment went really well this morning and I figured you’d be here anyway,” he replied, grinning at the three of them. “It’s like Cheers with fewer beers.”

Nat laughed out loud, “Come on Tony, you aren’t that old.”

“Maybe I just age fantastically well,” he smirked.

“So, Tony, the usual?” Steve asked, fresh paper cup in hand. He didn’t want to think about Tony aging: add a few more laugh lines and a hint of grey at his temples. Yeah, he’d still look fucking fantastic.

Tony’s right arm moved toward his back pocket in a grab for his wallet, but aborted the attempt halfway. Steve watched as the arm almost sheepishly came back to rest on the counter and Tony’s face fell. It was only for a moment, but he could tell the substitute smile was more forced.

“Actually, I think I’m ok for today, Steve. Thanks anyway.” Then, in an uncharacteristic display, he was quiet. Steve wanted to ask what was going on, if he was ok, but they had customers (the sober side of liquid lunchers) and him and Nat had to get back to work. So he pushed it to the back of his head and starts mixing coffees, not even noticing that his terrible mood from earlier had disappeared.

It’s nearing the end of his shift when he notices Darcy standing back on the rungs of her seat, gesturing wildly at him over the syrup pumps. Her face is lit with barely contained excitement. Intrigued, he walked over. Before he could ask what was going on, he noticed that Tony had stolen her empty book bag and was using it as a pillow, trapped underneath his arms and that he was fast asleep.

Steve beamed at Darcy. Tony was hot, a raging fireball of energy most of the time, but sleeping Tony was soft, almost delicate and Steve wanted to touch. He refrained, but he knew he had to do something for Tony to make his day brighter. To return the favor, as it were.

“Tony, hey Tony,” Steve came around to the other side of the bar and put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony woke gently, mumbling incoherently and looking up at Steve, eyes bleary.

“You’re more than welcome to nap at the counter, Tony, but in case you have things to do today..” Steve trailed off and set a large to-go cup of strong black coffee down in front of Tony’s face. “On the house.”

Tony smiled at him, and Steve had never seen a smile like it before. It was sleepy and only half there, but it was so full of joy, so genuine and beautiful it hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy plays at matchmaking, Thor plays at kidnapping, Steve takes initiative, and Tony is trying to keep up. 
> 
> Brief mentions of past domestic abuse and alcohol abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this! A chapter!

“Daddy?” Peter’s not-so quiet whisper came from only inches away from Tony’s face. Tony was wide awake instantly; he was a light sleeper, now that it was only him and Peter. An acute paranoia that something could happen to his baby boy while he was asleep kept him from sleeping as deeply as he used to. It was actually surprising that Peter managed to walk all the way into Tony’s room without him hearing. Peter was still a little wobbly on his tiny legs.

He turned to face Peter, who was just tall enough to be eye-level while lying in the bed. His brown hair was wild, his cowlick especially prominent, with one leg of his dino-teddy firmly in his mouth. Tony couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey bud, let’s not chew on Dino, ok?” he said, gently pulling the stuffed toy out from his son’s mouth.

“Can I sleep wi’ you, Daddy?” Peter asked, already trying to climb on the bed, one small hand grabbing at Tony’s sleep-shirt. Tony stuck his arm out and gave Peter a boost, letting out a grunt when a foot connected with his stomach as Peter scrambled over him. Glancing at his phone screen, he saw that it was close to five am; his alarm would go off in an hour anyway.

“Yeah, bud, you can stay in here for a bit.” Peter curled in tight against Tony’s chest, snuggling his dino-teddy in as well.

“Daddy, will you play wi’ me today? We never play anymore.” Guilt flooded Tony, leaving him slightly winded and he hugged Peter as closely as he could. He had hoped that Peter hadn’t noticed his late hours and busy weekends.

 _Dammit, Tony, you’ve got to be better than this_ , he chastised himself.

“We’re going to spend the whole weekend playing. Whatever you want to do, ok?”

Peter flopped over so that he was facing Tony and pressed a kiss to the very corner of his mouth. “Good,” he said before closing his eyes. The toddler was asleep within moments.

Tony was looking forward to the day being over; the shop had finally opened and two weeks later they had enough of a routine established that he was comfortable leaving it in Sif’s more than capable hands for a weekend. It had been a very hectic month with tons of overtime on his part, and as grateful as he was to May and Pepper for watching Peter, he _needed_ to spend more time with his son. It was almost a physical pain, how much he missed spending most of his time with his sweet boy. So this weekend was for Peter.

***

Tony was only lightly dozing when the ever-familiar guitar riff of his favorite AC/DC song starts playing quietly from his phone. Peter wakes immediately, arms going up above his head for a full-body stretch; Tony ducking his head aside to avoid a good morning hand to the face.

“Can I have Cap’n Crunchies?” Peter asks, brown eyes wide and innocent. It never ceases to amaze Tony how any child of his could be this good at mornings. He hates mornings before coffee and only deals with them when he has to. Which, as a single parent, is every morning.

“You know, I think captain crunchies sound great, Peter. But there might only be enough left for one bowl…” Tony teased, pulling aside the blankets.

Peter was out of bed and down the hall like he was jet-propelled. “Noooo! Daddy! ‘E Cap’n crunchies are mine!”

Tony followed at much more human pace. When he reached the kitchen, he set up the coffee machine and hoisted Peter into his booster seat, Dino in the adjacent chair. He poured the last of the cereal into a bowl with some milk and set it in front of Peter with one of the smallest spoons he’d ever seen.

He drank his coffee while watching Peter eat, occasionally helping him to get a better grip on the spoon and listening to the boy babble about what he and Miss May were going to do that day. That woman was a godsend, that’s for sure. Peter had never really liked any of his babysitters, but their landlady was like the grandmother Peter never had.

After brushing Peter’s teeth and getting dressed in his favorite Captain America t-shirt, jeans, and tiny Converse sneakers, he parked the toddler on his bean bag chair for morning cartoons so that he could rush through his own morning routine.

“Ready to go see Miss May?” Tony asked, grabbing the despised pink and brown diaper bag that was packed full of Peter’s snacks and toys and assortment of _things_ , and holding out Peter’s jacket for him to slip his arms into.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Peter exclaimed, jumping up and running to Tony. “And you’ll play wi’ me when you get home?”

“Yep, we’ll go get dinner somewhere and then we’ll play. So, you think about what you want to eat later, ok?” Tony took one of Peter’s hands as they walked down to May’s apartment.

The older woman didn’t even have the chance to say hello before Peter was grabbing her hand and talking.

“Guess what, Miss May! Guess what?” Peter was bouncing up and down and continued without waiting for her guess. “Daddy says I get to pick dinner!”

May beamed. “That’s a very big decision, young man. It’s a good thing we have all day to think about it, huh?” Peter nodded seriously. Tony set the diaper bag against the wall just inside the door.

“Morning, May,” Tony spoke up. “So Pepper should be here around two to pick him up, like usual.”

“That’s fine, Tony. You know I don’t mind having Peter around,” May smiled at him.

“Thanks May, you don’t know what a lifesaver you’ve been for us,” Tony said with absolute sincerity. It was an understatement to say that things had been easy for them after what happened with Peter’s mom, and kindness like May Parkers was not commonly found.

Something must have shown on his face because he was suddenly pulled into a hug, and after a moment of shock, he lifted his arms to return the gesture. Tony allowed himself to enjoy the fleeting notion of _comfort, care_ , and _you’re not alone_ before pulling back.

May patted his cheek gently with one hand. “Now, you go have a good day at work. Peter and I are fine.”

Tony nodded and stepped back, needing to clear his throat before saying goodbye to Peter. “Alright, Peter, I’ll see you tonight. Remember to think about what you want for dinner, ok?”

Peter ran back over to give Tony a hug and a kiss to the cheek. “Ok, bye Daddy! I love you.” Then he was off again into May’s apartment, a tiny tornado off energy and laughter. Tony shook his head, waved at May and started his walk to the shop.

***

He decides to forego additional coffee at the House today; it’s been a surprisingly emotional morning and he doesn’t feel up to Steve’s flirting. Honestly, Tony has no idea how he would respond right now, so it’s best to just lock himself in his office and go over the week’s finances. Maybe go over the supplies with Darcy.

Or maybe go over the supplies alone; Darcy had been prying into his personal life lately, her attempts to get him to spill about what sort of person he dates getting less subtle every day. It almost seems like everyone is trying to play matchmaker. He’s only ever served by Steve when he goes to the House. The angry redhead always ducking into the back or suddenly deciding that she needs to man the espresso machine when he walks in.

Steve’s tried to ask him out several times now, too. It makes Tony feel a little bit like a horrible person when he pretends to be oblivious about what Steve’s really asking before ending the conversation. He thought the guy would have given up by now, but wow the guy was stubborn!

He had to admit that it was starting to wear him down. No, he didn’t really want to date, but it was very flattering to have someone pursue him like that. Tony couldn’t remember that ever happening before, nor by anyone who was quite so attractive. Steve was kind of the whole package when it came to looks. Tony really wouldn’t mind having that much muscle pound him into his mattress. _I’d bet that weekend marathon sex really would be **weekend marathon sex**_ , Tony laughed to himself.

“Whatcha thinking about, boss?” Darcy’s teasing voice interrupted. Oh, he was already at the shop… thinking dirty things about the smoking hot barista that would not stop hitting on him. _Happy Friday_.

“Weekend plans,” he said lightly, schooling his expression into something hopefully neutral. “You got any, Darce?” He tosses his jacket, keys, and phone into his office, right off of the reception area and comes back out to chat with her for a bit.

“Eh, maybe hit a party tonight, but nothing solid. How about you? I saw you took the whole weekend off! Good for you, is it a kinky weekend escape?”

A giant laugh escaped him at that, leaving Darcy looking stunned. _If only she knew… more like watching Finding Nemo at least three times and a trip to the park. If he’s lucky, he won’t end up with any snot or vomit on his jeans._ “God, Darcy, thanks for the laugh,” Tony walked into his office still chuckling to himself.

All in all, he’s more than grateful to have a weekend away from everyone so that he can just relax and be himself. Hoping to duck out a few minutes early, Tony spends most of the day getting everything ready for the weekend. The more he gets done now, the less likely it is that he’ll have to come back Sunday night.

It’s only a little after 5 when he decides that everything is all set and prepared to close and open up the next morning. He’s just pocketing keys and cell phone to leave when Thor’s larger than life figure literally darkens his doorway.

“Thor! What brings you by on a Friday evening? Thought you’d be treating Jane to a happy hour by now.” _Please don’t need to talk business._

“Tony, it’s good to see you again. I apologize for the short notice, but I’ve set up a small celebration, for the success you’ve had with the opening and you are the guest of honor,” Thor’s face is beaming with excitement and joy.

“Tonight? Dude, that’s not short notice that’s no notice. I can’t, Thor. I have plans tonight.” Tony shrugs in apology and edges closer to the door, hoping that maybe Thor will get the hint and stop blocking the whole thing with his massive shoulders.

Thor’s face falls, contemplative. “I was not aware you had plans, Tony.”

Tony’s eyebrows raise questioningly, “Maybe that’s because we don’t usually talk about that kind of thing, buddy. Not to mention, this is my first weekend off since I moved here. I don’t really want to spend it with co-workers. No offense.”

“But Tony, some of your employees have put a lot of effort into planning this evening. You would be sorely missed.” Thor somehow morphed his beach-bum slash Viking tough guy face into one of guileless puerility. _A puppy dog face? Really?_

Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair, groaning aloud. “Fine. One hour, Thor. I will make an appearance. Just give me a few to make a couple phone calls, kay?” He should have expected the overly enthusiastic pat on the back, as such he forced a poorly disguised grimace on his face as he pushed Thor out of his office.

Keeping his voice down so that Thor can’t overhear any of his conversation, Tony dialed up May Parker, prepared to grovel on his knees and make the woman dinner for the next two weeks if she could watch Peter for another hour tonight. Pepper had to be at the hospital at 6, and Tony really hoped she wouldn’t be late because of him. Of course, May didn’t agree to letting him cook for her, but demanded that they both come to her apartment for dinner on Sunday. Tony laughed his agreement, still not quite believing his good fortune in meeting his landlady.

Bracing himself for an evening with his coworkers and _Thor,_ Tony allowed himself to be manhandled into Thor’s highly impractical Hummer. _At least he has a car._

***

Thor’s place looks to be a small townhouse, the kind that’s more like two tiny identical houses set back to back, so he has a real front door and an upstairs with a tiny patio overlooking a small patch of yard. Tony wonders about it, knowing that Thor’s family is loaded, but doesn’t say anything and follows Thor inside.

The quite visceral smell of booze is the first thing he registers and it sends him reeling into a panic for a moment. _Whoa, what the hell is this?_ The apartment is packed. This is less a work celebration and more of a… party. It’s a party. He’s been suckered into attending a party; a raging party despite the early hour. His lips purse as he vacillates between disappointment and anger. He’s had enough of this bullshit lately; it was his choice and his business if he wanted to keep his work and private lives completely separate.

By the time Tony gets his head back on straight, Thor is long gone; his boisterous voice and towering persona drowned by the ambient atmosphere. He grabs a red solo cup from the stack on the counter and peeks into the fridge. _Bingo!_ Glancing around, he makes sure no one sees him grab one of the unopened cranberry juices and pour the whole thing into his cup.

Looking at his watch he promises that he’ll stay for half an hour, make sure that everyone sees his face then get the hell out. Taking a fortifying breath, he strolls back into the fray, plastering on a smile that says there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. He holds his cranberry juice in one hand and his sobriety chip in the other, hidden deeply within his pocket. _You’ve got this Tony_ , he thinks, gripping the chip so tightly it was probably going to be imprinted on his flesh.

He sees Darcy talking with a tall, skinny guy that he’s never seen before and heads over to her.

“Tony! Hey, what are you doing here?” She greets him a little too loudly, reaching up to give him a one-armed hug. He wraps one arm around her as she stumbles into him. Her vodka drink sloshed uncomfortably close to his face but he managed to keep from cringing. _Yep, someone’s been drinking for a while_.

“Darcy, don’t pretend that you had nothing to do with Thor practically kidnapping me today,” he leveled her with a mock serious face. She laughed, mouth open wide.

“Oh my gosh, Tony! We’ve been plotting this for weeks! Have you seen Steve yet?”

“No, not yet. I’m sure I will, though. Who’s your friend?” Tony tried to steer the conversation away from Steve. If there was one person he definitely did not want to run into right now, it was Steve.

With a great deal of effort, Darcy pulled herself off of Tony and transferred the cling to the tall, younger guy. “This is Ian, we met in class. He’s pretty cute, huh, Tony?”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, Darcy, he looks like a catch.” He held a hand out to shake Ian’s. “I’m Tony.”

“Uh… it’s a pleasure.” The accent definitely caught Tony by surprise.

“Darcy, sweetie, do you have a ride home?” Tony asked, knowing that Darcy was going to be in any shape to be doing much for a while.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetie’?”

“Oh, I’m not drinking and we rode here together,” Ian cut in, wrapping an arm around Darcy’s waist. Tony decided it looked like a crush and not like a creeper, so he nodded.

 “You’re supposed to call Steve sweetie, not me,” Darcy whined.

“You’re right, Darcy. I’m going to go find him now, ok?” It was impossible for Tony to be mad at Darcy for whatever machinations she was involved in regarding his social life. She was a good kid.

“Good,” she murmured, attention waning already.

Tony turned back to Ian with a shark smile. “Do I have to tell you what happens if she doesn’t get home safely?”

“No, sir,” he replied, appropriately cowed.

“Good man,” Tony said, clapping a hand to Ian’s shoulder before strutting away. He hoped Darcy didn’t remember any of that; she didn’t need his parental tendencies spilling out all over everyone in his life. But if it helped get her home safe, he didn’t mind pulling the ‘Dad Card.’

Checking his watch, he was glad to see that had killed a solid ten minutes. A third of the way gone. He turned and very narrowly avoided dumping all of his drink all over the large, muscled body he knocked into.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watch…” he trailed off as he looked up to meet a pair of electric blue eyes.

“Hey Tony.”

“Steve, hey,” Tony stuttered out. His brain was short circuiting a bit due to the proximity and a predatory heat in Steve’s eyes he hadn’t seen before. _Wow, tall, shoulders…hot_. He shook his head and took a tiny step backward, just enough to not feel Steve’s body heat.

“You look great, Tony,” Steve said, voice somehow lower but perfectly audible despite the racket from the DJ booth.

“Oh, thanks, well Thor kinda kidnapped me after work. This isn’t really my scene,” Tony tried for flippant and wasn’t sure if he succeeded at all.

“Would you rather get out of here and go somewhere that’s more your style?” Steve asked, head tilting down. Tony suddenly remembered a scene from one of Pepper’s favorite movies. It had Sandra Bullock, and the love interest was leaning, moving in with intent, _leaning. Oh my god, Steve is totally leaning at me!_

Dazed, Tony looked away to formulate an acceptable response that would make him sound his age and gender when he saw someone across the room who made his mouth go instantly dry. He could feel his breath quicken and his eyes widen in panic. His face must have been something to behold because the sexy, confident Steve was replaced with worried, sweet Steve.

“Tony? Tony, are you ok? Gosh, we don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Steve was anxiously running a hand through his hair.

Tony tore his gaze away from the dark haired figure across the room. “No, Steve, I’m fine. It’s not you. I need to get out of here.”

Steve’s resulting smile was blindingly brilliant. “Alright, great! Let me just tell Thor we’re leaving!” He whirled and walked away, leaving Tony with his mouth hanging open, protest hanging unspoken. _Crap_.

Too late, Tony noticed that without Steve’s large person blocking him he was in direct line of sight of… _Loki_. It was definitely him; freakishly pale, exquisite bone structure, shiny black hair, and brilliant green eyes. They were currently boring into his own, pinning him in place like a creature of prey with a menacing glare. Tony could feel panic bleeding up inside him. He hadn’t felt this in a long time. _Abort, abort!_ He fled, walking as quickly as possible to the bathroom.

Steve popped up in his way, “Ready Tony?”

Tony pushed his drink into Steve’s hands. “One minute. Bathroom.” God, even full sentences were beyond him right now. He shut the door to the bathroom and locked it before leaning on it and sliding down to the floor, tucking his head between his knees and cowering beneath his arms.

What the hell was Loki doing in New York?! Thor should have told him his brother was going to be here, but maybe he’d forgotten. It had been about ten years since Tony and Loki had dated. Since their disastrous farce of a relationship. They’d met in New Mexico and Loki had pretty much literally charmed the pants right off of Tony. It was great, until it wasn’t. Until the first time Loki’d slapped him for flirting with a waitress. After that, it was all downhill.

Shivering, Tony forced himself to stand. _That was years ago, he can’t hurt you now. He wouldn’t dare, not here. Not with witnesses._ He grimaced and went to the sink, splashing cool water on his face. He needed to look just a bit less shell shocked before facing anyone, and he needed an exit.

He started reviewing the bus schedule and calculating rates and routes in his head, the maps and numbers pushing his discomfort away. Stepping into the hallway, he didn’t see Steve approach but he definitely noticed when he was shoved against the wall and a pair of warm lips were pressed to his.

Steve was kissing him, their bodies meeting from chest to knees; one of Steve’s legs slotted between his own and one giant hand on the back of Tony’s neck. Tony squeaked in surprise but found himself responding, melting into Steve’s warmth and enthusiasm. _Wow, Steve is great at this...ooh biceps.._

Steve’s tongue pressed into Tony’s mouth and all Tony could taste was beer. _No, no, no, no, no!_ A million hazy memories full of shame and remorse flickered through his head and he pushed Steve away roughly.

He didn’t look at Steve, not wanting to see whatever emotions the other man may be feeling. Regardless of whether Steve was looking for a quick fuck or a few dates he was way too young and good-looking and nice to be stuck with someone like Tony. Someone who was a complete mess, waste of time.

“I can’t do this Steve.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's reaction to Tony's abrupt departure and an encounter with Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow ride... take it easy... (I write slow, sorry)

Steve was just starting to get into the kiss when Tony pulled away abruptly, stumbling away down the hall.

“Tony! Wait!” he called. Maybe the kiss had been a bad idea. Probably a little too fast for the other man, he should have known better, since Tony was so shy about responding to any of Steve’s moves. And boy had he been putting the moves on Tony (for weeks!). But it was like the more the guy avoided him and played dumb, the more Steve wanted to know him. There was obviously so much more to Tony and Steve wanted to know everything. Where he grew up, why he was a mechanic, wanted to see Tony laugh his hardest, to see Tony lose himself in pleasure. _But dammit, why couldn’t Steve ever be patient?! He’d probably scared Tony away forever._

He followedTony out of the hall into the living room, set to bow and scrape his apologies, but Tony hadn’t made it far. He was in a tense face-off with a tall, slim, dark haired man who was openly sneering at Tony. The entire line of Tony’s body strained with obvious anxiety. _Who the hell sneers in real life anyway? Rude._

He walked up behind Tony, standing close enough to notice that the smaller man shaking, a minute quavering. Steve was instantly much more on edge. Whoever this guy was, he was bad news.

Green eyes flicker to Steve, taking in his protective hovering stance and instantly dismissing him. Now smirking at Tony, “Ah Tony. Still whoring around I see?”

 _What the fuck?_ Steve waited for Tony to tell this guy what’s what, and was surprised when Tony just lowered his head slightly.

“Hello Loki. Didn’t fancy running into you here,” Tony’s voice was even and lifeless, betraying no emotion. Steve couldn’t for the life of him figure out the animosity between the two other men.

“Well, I expected you to show. You know what they say, ‘once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic’.” The man took a long, slow drag of whatever booze is in his cup, making a show of nonchalance, but his green eyes glittered with malice and amusement.

Steve could hear Tony’s harsh intake of breath, but he’s left bewildered, trying to put two and two together. He looked down at the drink Tony had been nursing all night, somehow still in Steve’s left hand. Steve sniffed it subtly before taking a sip. When the tang of 100% cranberry juice hits his tongue, he’s also hit with a wave of shame and embarrassment.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. No wonder Tony said this wasn’t his scene! Recovering alcoholics do not go to raging frat-style parties._

“Um, excuse me a moment,” Tony ducked sideways, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Loki.

Steve didn’t know if he should follow and make sure Tony as ok ( _you’re probably like the last person he wants to see right now, jerk_ ) or punch this Loki dick right in the face. He still hadn’t decided when the music stops for a moment and the DJ shouts out an announcement.

“Alright everyone! Special request! From the man of the hour, Tony Stark. This goes out to Loki, with love!”

A heavy rock tune starts blaring over the drunken cheers of the partygoers. It’s not one Steve’s super familiar with, but Loki’s face darkens almost immediately.

_“She take you down easy_

_Going down to her knees_

_Going down to the devil_

_Down down at ninety degrees_

_She blowing me crazy_

_‘til my ammunition is dry”_

No one but Steve seems to be aware of the tension that is growing between Loki and Tony, who was standing in the middle of the living room, hands faux-casually hooked into his front trouser pockets, a smirk lifting one side of his mouth.

As the chorus started to sound, Tony winked at Loki, who let out a snarl and charges. Suddenly, they’re on the ground, a rolling whirlwind of curses and flailing punches.

Before Steve or anyone else can get the idea to step in and put a stop to the brawl, the men are on their feet again. Loki has Tony in a chokehold and is pushing him out onto the second floor balcony.

 _Oh shit!_ is all Steve has time to think before Tony is shoved over the wrought iron waist high barrier.

It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out all at once. A vacuum of shocked silence. A timid looking guy with wire-framed glasses is the first to react, knocking Loki to the floor with an actual _roar_ before proceeding the beat the shit out of him.

After a moment of disbelief, Steve’s brain reconnects with his body. “Tony!” he yells, heading for the door. He practically makes it down the stairs in one jump, a sloppy, pseudo-parkour; slamming the door open with his body. It ricocheted off of the wall, shutting with a slam. He didn’t pause to wince at the potential property damage.

Tony was lying on his side, grumbling when Steve slides to his knees next to him, “Dammit, ow! Still an asshole.” _He’s conscious, that’s good._ Steve puts his hand on Tony’s elbow to help guide him to sitting but stops when Tony lets out a pained yell. “Ow! Shit, Steve. What are you doing?”

“Tony, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you. Does your arm hurt? Do you think anything’s broken?” Steve’s hands hover over Tony’s prone body, now hesitant to touch, to hurt him further.

“Think I dislocated my shoulder,” Tony sits up slowly, grimacing and pale. “Ok, now I feel kinda sick. I hit my head a little, arm took the brunt, though.”

“Ok, I’m taking you to the hospital. Can you stand?” He watched, ready to help if needed, as Tony wobbled to his feet.

“No hospitals, Steve. I’m fine. I’ve got someone I can call,” Tony stepped away before listing sideways, knees buckling.

Steve rushed to catch him, ending up with his arms around Tony’s trim waist. “That’s it, no arguments Tony. You need to go to the hospital now.” He started to guide Tony to his motorcycle, thinking that the other man definitely had some form of concussion that needed professional help.

Tony was protesting, but it was getting quieter and a little slurred. “No… don’t like hospitals. Please don’t.”

Steve drove to the hospital with one hand holding Tony’s around his stomach, having tucked Tony’s other securely between his belt and jeans. It was tricky, but all of Tony’s weight, which seemed strangely light, was pushing solidly against the very middle of Steve’s shoulder blades.

The ER waiting room was packed. He should have known, Friday night in the city; _lots of shit happens_. All of the seats in the main area were filled, so Steve wandered down a nearby hallway until he found a chair to park Tony in.

“Tony, I’m gonna go check you in with the nurse, ok? I’ll be right back.” Tony didn’t respond. His eyes were large and glazed, his breathing fairly rapid. Instead of staying to worry over this, Steve jogged back toward the nurse’s station in the ER.

***

Using his most charming smile and every bit of Brooklyn-boy swagger he’d picked up from Bucky (he hated to admit it, but he may have even flexed his pecs a bit), Steve got the paperwork from the receptionist and was guaranteed at least thirty minutes off of Tony’s wait time.

“Veronica!” Someone was shouting, as Steve made his way back to Tony; the grief-roughened voice echoing loudly even in the busy ER. “Ronnie, please! Ronnie!” It was anguished and desolate. Steve wondered who Veronica was, because whoever had just lost her was obviously heartbroken.

The clipboard with Tony’s paperwork slid from Steve’s suddenly numb fingers when he saw Tony sobbing in the chair, arms wrapped tightly around himself, his body wracked with tremors. He wasn’t yelling anymore, but Steve could still hear him asking for Veronica.

“Ronnie, please. Please don’t leave me.” He sounded broken and small.

Steve’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach, kicking all the air out of his lungs at once, as he had a second horrifying revelation about Tony. Tony didn’t want to go to the hospital. Tony had _lost_ someone at a hospital. Someone important.

A figure in light pink scrubs came skidding around the corner on pristine white sneakers, breathing as though she’d ran from the somewhere else in the hospital. Her cheeks were tinted red, like her hair that was pulled back into a professional looking ponytail.

“Tony, Tony, what happened?” She knelt between Tony’s knees, grabbing his head with both hands. Tony’s eyes were bloodshot, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, but he was clearly not seeing the hallway they were currently in.

“Shit, Tony. It’s Pepper, you’re with me. We’re in New York. It’s 2016. You’re not there anymore, come on Tony. You’re with me. It’s Pepper.”

Steve listened as Pepper repeated her short diatribe over and over for several minutes until Tony’s sobbing abated and his tremors subsided to a tiny trembling. He shook his head as though dispelling an internal fog. “Pepper?” he asked hoarsely.

“Oh Tony,” she whispered, before surging forward and embracing him, his head tucked against her neck. Tony clung to her, fisting his hands in the back of her scrub top, looking for all the world like he would crumble without her. Steve averted his gaze, feeling that he just witnessed, _no intruded_ , on something deeply personal.

“So who are you and what happened?” Steve’s head snapped to attention at the thinly-disguised vitriol in the woman’s voice as she stepped into his space. He glanced over her shoulder; Tony was slouched in his chair, uninjured hand covering as much of his face and eyes as possible.

Steve tried smiling at the woman, _Pepper_ , but faltered when it seemed to only deepen her glare.  “I’m Steve. We were at a party at Thor’s place and this guy, Loki I think his name was got into it with Tony and threw him off the second floor balcony. He was a little out of it, so I brought him here.”

Pepper’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider without popping out of her head. “Shit!” she said under her breath. “No wonder he’s wrecked. Ok, Steve,” she stressed his name with an undue amount of disdain. “You are going to walk Tony out to my car and wait for me there. I’ll be like ten minutes. Don’t touch him and don’t you dare speak to him.”

“Wait what?” _Who was this woman to talk to him like that?_ He’d done the right thing, bringing Tony to the hospital for treatment.

“You’re Steve, right? The barista?” He nodded, confused as to how she’d heard about him. “Maybe if you could quit trying to get in Tony’s pants for two fucking minutes you’d realize he’s a real fucking person. Did he ask you to bring him here?”

It felt like he’d been slapped. “No, actually, he asked me not to,” he looked away, sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did, so that he could avoid a panic-induced breakdown like what you just saw.” She paused, letting her words sink in. Her body language was screaming aggression and protectiveness. Bringing Tony here against his will was obviously a huge mistake. There was way more to Tony than he’d expected.

“Take him to the employee parking area. Wait for me by the light blue slug bug.”

***

Once Pepper had finished examining Tony in the half-gloom of the parking lot, re-setting his shoulder and getting him into a sling, she kissed his temple and glared at Steve before trotting back into the hospital.

 

Steve and Tony walked back to the motorcycle in silence. “I’ll drive you home, Tony. What’s your address?”

 

“The shop’s fine. I’ll walk from there.” Tony didn’t say another word, despite how Steve wheedled and cajoled. Pulling over at Thor’s shop, he asked again, reluctant to let Tony out of his sight when he’d had such a rough night.

 

Tony stood on the sidewalk, an unfamiliar hunch to his shoulders. “No, Steve. I think you’ve done enough. Let me just put it out there for you and your little crew of matchmakers. I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t do relationships. And if you’re just after me for a quick fuck, well I’m not that kind of guy anymore. I was looking forward to tonight and this weekend so much,” Steve’s heart almost breaks when Tony pauses to push the heel of his hand against his eye as if holding back tears.

 

“But I can safely say that this has been one of the worst nights of my life. So, please, Steve. Just leave me alone.” Steve’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t think of a single word to say. Tony nodded, apparently satisfied with that result before turning and walking away.

 

Steve watched Tony’s retreating figure, noting the lack of pep in his step. He was completely blindsided; was one-night stand really the vibe he’d been giving off? He backtracked through every interaction they’d ever had, knowing that nearly all of their mutual acquaintances had noticed his pursuit. There was no way Tony hadn’t noticed, so maybe all of those oblivious brush-offs were Tony’s way of letting him down easy? _Oh man, I’m such an idiot. He probably thinks I’m a complete jackass by now!_

 

Before misery over the situation could fully settle, Steve shook himself. He needed to sort out his emotions. He’d needed to for months, but now he was hurting other people. Dragging innocents down into the murk. He needed to figure out if he was still waiting for Bucky or if it was time to let him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is 'Givin the dog a bone' by AC/DC. 
> 
> Any suggestions for what the next bit should have? I only have a general idea of where this is going...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes it home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the comments, I love reading them, they are so motivating! I'm so glad to get this chapter out :)

Tony trudged toward his apartment, suddenly thankful for not having a car. He’d walked the route from the shop to the apartment so many times he could do it blind. _Can do it with a concussion_ , he thought darkly.

Whatever painkillers Pepper had given him at the hospital were wearing thin and his entire body seemed to be protesting any and all movement. His shoulder ached fiercely, the weight of his limp arm in the sling creating unwelcome tension in his neck.

It probably would have felt like a massive tension headache if his skull wasn’t already pounding a stabbing staccato beat in time with his blood. He winced away from the street lamps; though they were no more than a hazy blur, it encouraged the nausea that had been building since the sensory overload that was riding on the back of a motorcycle.

As much as all that hurt, it was nothing compared to the overwhelming emptiness in his chest. The raw, pure grief that had surprised him at the hospital and punched a gaping hole straight through him.

He hadn’t been back in a hospital since the accident. Those stupid words echoed in his head, over and over, some horrifying loop playing back the worst moment of his life.

_Persistent vegetative state._

It still rang with the somber, condescending sympathy of the doctor. As if saying it softly and with more syllables made it any easier to ear. As if the foundation of Tony’s life wasn’t violently cracking right along with his heart.

Being in that hospital for all of ten minutes brought it all back in high definition. He thought he’d gotten over the worst, his grief and depression long since dulled into a thin farce of functionality. Really, though, who just ‘got over’ killing their wife?

Tony walked on, trapped in the memories of Ronnie’s last days. How desperately he held her limp hand in his, begging her not to leave him, waiting with bated breath for her to wake up and answer his cries. He would never hear her voice again, calling him an idiot for not knowing the difference between a clove of garlic and a head of garlic; only the beeping and hiss-whooshing of the ventilator.

All he could feel was the empty space _between,_ the _emptiness_ she left behind _._ He was vaguely aware of tears running down his face, but he paid them no attention. A small part of him relished this pain, letting him know he was still human and not just some monster who had pulled the plug on the love of his life.

He didn’t realize that he’d made it to the apartment complex until a familiar voice broke through the entrancing white noise in his head.

It was May Parker, her slight figure illuminated by the light coming from the inside of her apartment, relief coloring her voice as she spoke into the phone. “Oh thank heavens, I see him! I’ll get him home, Pepper. Don’t you worry about it. Ok, bye hon.”

Scurrying to him, May grabbed the elbow of his not injured arm and guided him into the apartment. “Poor dear, you must be nearly chilled. Come in, come in, we’ll get you warmed up and back to normal in no time.”

Tony barely noticed that the sofa bed was already pulled out and set up with sheets and an alarming number of pillows, before he was reclining on it with a blanket around his shoulders. Oh, he was shivering. He hadn’t even registered that he was cold.

Numbly, he accepted the bowl of macaroni and cheese that was pressed into his lax hands. “Mac ‘n cheese?” He asked, “Did Peter pick?”

May nodded, sitting in the recliner caddy-corner to the sofa bed. Her expression was one Tony was long familiar with, obviously trying to come up with a diplomatic way to say that his child had thrown a royal fit.

“How much of a fight did he put up?” Tony asked, hanging his head.

“He was fine, Tony. Just very much looking forward to having dinner with his father.”

Tony’s spirits sank a little lower and his throat was suddenly too thick to swallow his bite of pasta. Heavy and tasteless, it sat in his mouth. He’d officially become his father, putting work first and breaking promises faster than he could make them.

“Tony, don’t go blaming yourself for this. Tonight? Tonight was a freak accident, from what Pepper told me.” May took the macaroni from his lap, placing it on the end table before taking his hand and sandwiching it between her own.

“You work so hard to provide for your young man, which is admirable, really. And he’s such an amazing boy, too. So bright and kind, you should be proud.”

May’s smile was honest and earnest, her words equally so, warming some small part of Tony’s chest. Praise for raising his son right? It wasn’t something he ever knew he wanted... _needed_. But it felt amazing. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Was this what family was supposed to feel like?

He wished he was brave enough to say something, let May know what that meant to him. Clearing his throat he said, instead, “Speaking of the mini monster, where is Peter?” Tony gently extricated his hand and reached for another bite of his dinner. It really was a million times better than the boxed powder crap he usually had around.

“I filled the tub a bit so that he could play with the boats in actual water. I’ll go fetch him, I’m guessing it’s close to his bed time anyway.”

Tony nodded, starting to stand. “Of course, we’ll should get out of your hair. Thanks for dinner and for entertaining Peter for a few extra hours.”

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from rising all the way. “Thanks, hon, but you’re both staying here tonight. Pepper and I both insist.”

Tony briefly debated arguing that he was fine, more than capable of spending the night on his own but decided against it. If Pepper and May were joining forces, there wasn’t much they couldn’t do. Besides, he was on the opposite side of the planet from ‘fine.’  So he put on a passable smirk and toed off his shoes, stretching his legs out.

“If you insist,” he said as brightly as he could manage.

May patted his shin as she walked past him. “There you go. I’ll be back with Peter.”

Peter threw a fit until he saw his father. All Tony could hear from around the corner were small cries of, “No, Daddy broke his promise. I don’t wanna play wi’ him anymore, Miss May. No!”

As soon as Peter saw Tony though, his protests went silent, and his eyes went wide. “Daddy?” He asked, much more subdued than normal.

“Hey buddy, did you have fun with Miss May today?”

Instead of getting peter to talk, the boy burst into tears, running and launching himself into Tony’s arms. It jarred his tender shoulder, and Tony let out a sharp gasp of pain that had Peter gripping him tighter around the neck.

“Peter, Peter, buddy. It’s ok, Daddy’s ok he’s just a little hurt. You’ve got to be a little gentler, ok?” Tony pried his son off of him and kissed his little face repeatedly.

“Daddy got a little hurt at work today but I’m sorry I missed dinner and playtime.” Peter was calming down, willing to sit on Tony’s lap and be hugged.

“It’s ok, Daddy. I’m sorry you got hurt and we can always play tomorrow, ok?” Peter kissed Tony’s cheek and settled in to get comfy, pressed up against Tony as much as possible.

Tony didn’t even care that they were in someone else’s apartment, someone who could see. He was content to hold his baby boy as they both drifted to sleep.

***

Tony schlepped his way to wakefulness, acutely aware of the dangers of moving his head and arm too much or too quickly. Giggling, he could hear giggling and whispering… in Spanish?

He rolled onto his back to see Pepper in sweats and a t-shirt sitting on the sofa bed next to him. Her hair was an artless mess that made him snort. He reached out and tugged a bit of it playfully.

“Hey gorgeous,” he joked.

“Daddy! We’re wat-ching Dora!” Peter exclaimed from his seat between Pepper’s legs, peering over her elbow at him.

“Hey buddy, yeah, you know Dora’s my favorite.” Tony struggled to pull himself upright while only using one arm.

“Morning Tony, how are you feeling?” Pepper asked, before Peter could jump in with how much he liked Dora, too.

“It would be bad parenting for me to say while Peter’s in the room,” Tony drawled, not exaggerating a bit. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Pepper frowned. “I was worried, so May let me crash here with you guys. I brought painkillers, so don’t complain. You can have them after breakfast, which May’s cooking right now. You’ll feel loads better soon.”

“Good, cuz I don’t think Dora’s going to be nearly as enjoyable with a concussion.” The glare Pepper shot him was well deserved. He knew how much Pepper hated this show.

 _Asshole_ , she mouthed at him. “So you didn’t tell me that Steve the barista is a major hottie.”

“Uhhh…sorry? You know I’m not dating right now, right? I thought I’d made this very clear. He’s the only one not getting it.”

Pepper maneuvered Peter so that he was on his stomach, face toward the television at the foot of the sofa bed, and faced Tony more.

“Maybe you should reconsider. He was genuinely worried about you last night, and seemed like a nice guy, even after I ripped him a new one. Heart eyes every time.”

“Heart eyes?” Tony groaned, “How old are you?”

“Seriously, Tony, what’s wrong with Steve? I know he’s your type.”

“Shut up, I don’t have a type.”

“Have you seen the guy? He’s everyone’s type.”

When did Pepper get so good at repartee? Must be the concussion affecting his game.

“Ok, yes, Steve is a ‘major hottie,’ as you put it,” Tony lowered his voice. “And I guess he’s nice enough, but that is literally all I know about him. He doesn’t volunteer information and he’s never asked me an honest question in any of our conversations. Evidence points to him as one night stand material only. I can’t exactly indulge with Peter around. I never said I didn’t want to, just that I can’t.”

“Fine, say what you want, but I think there’s more to it than that.”

Luckily, Pepper waited until Peter was involved in replying loudly to Dora in his own version of Spanish to continue her investigation of the evening.

“You’re gonna have to wear turtlenecks for a few days, unless you want people asking about,” Pepper paused, awkwardly gesturing to her neck, “you know.”

Right, attempted strangulation caused bruising so easily. Maybe he still had some of his makeup from his Loki days. The nearest drugstore was a few blocks in the opposite direction of the shop.

“Yeah, I know.” He flopped back down onto his back, closing his eyes and grimacing a bit at his own carelessness. He didn’t want to face her for this. “It’s not the first time,” he whispered.

“Tony,” she replied with more emotion than he cared to parse through.

“It’s fine, Pepper. It all just caught me by surprise, the entire night. Loki was a mistake from a lifetime ago, when I was young and all I did was make mistakes, apparently.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his worn sobriety chip. He was beyond glad he hadn’t lost it.

Holding it out to Pepper, he opened his eyes. Hers filled with tears as she took it, the green flashing brightly against her pale fingers. “You still have it,” she whispered.

“Of course I do. It’s the only mistake I don’t regret, because it brought me to Ronnie. And you. It gave me Peter. That chip almost means more to me than my wedding band.”

“She’d laugh at you for that. Ronnie made mistakes too. She wasn’t perfect, Tony.”

Tony shook his head, no. “She was to me, Pep. Perfect.”

Pepper didn’t argue just scooted down to lay with her head on Tony’s good shoulder, fiddling with the green AA chip that had brought their entire family together.

As soon as Dora was over, Peter made it known that today was a day for adventures.

“Daddy! Can we go to ‘e zoo? I wanna see the tigers!”  

***

He really should shower. His skin was clammy with the day’s sweat and sunscreen residue and would be quite disgusting by morning. Pulling back the shower curtain, Tony stared at the chrome fixtures, willing the pain wracking his brain to recede just enough. After a minute, maybe two, he gave it up as insurmountable, his body was just too exhausted.

He moved to the sink, to at least rinse his face and get the smell of animal and too many people out of his nose. Drying his face on a faded hand-towel, he examined his face. Too pale and ill-looking in the harsh, cheap light and the near permanent shadows under his eyes were much more noticeable than the brown of his actual eyes.

Peter had his eyes. It was strange to see them full of hope and wonder and _life_ when Tony saw them in the mirror most days a reflection of his despondency and despair. He was glad Peter had his eyes. If he had to see Ronnie staring back at him every night, his heart wouldn’t have a chance in hell of stitching itself back together.

It was equal parts devastating and incredible that every day he became more and more like her. Peter was barely three and Tony couldn’t be more proud of their little man. He just wished he was still ‘their’ little man.

Tony wandered into his room, taking his time pulling his arm out of the plastic-y, sweaty, sling and pulling off his clothes without hurting himself. Peter was worn out, so Tony didn’t bother putting on his sleep gear and lay down in just his boxers.

The ceiling was as unremarkable as it had always been, doing nothing to help his brain turn off. If he still the weak man he once was, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a fifth of scotch or whiskey but he was determined that Peter would never know the man he used to be.

Instead, he turned to his nightstand and pulled out a framed photo. Setting it on the pillow next to him, he spoke. “God, Ronnie. I miss you so much. I can’t believe how much it still hurts.”

He stared at her picture, telling her all about their trip to the zoo and how excited Peter was about everything. Eventually he tired, and it was an effort to keep his eyes open, to look at her smiling, beautiful face, but it was a losing battle.

“Love you,” he whispered before drifting away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's works on his apology with a little help from an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! This chapter is finally finished! Dialogue is super hard for me, so hopefully it reads all right. :)

The image of Tony’s dejected slump seemed to be burned into Steve’s retinas as he lay in bed that evening. It was an almost pleasant change from the visions that usually haunted his nights, keeping him from sleep.

It wasn’t pleasant, though. Instead of fear and anxiety sending adrenaline like liquid fire through his veins, it was remorse. It ensconced itself around his neck and chest, choking him in a thick shroud of self-reproach. Pulling tighter and tighter, it clenched around him, making it harder and harder to breath.

Before his panic could escalate any further, he roughly ripped aside the bedcovers and set his feet on the cold wood floor. It ground him slightly, but he knew this was one of _those nights_.

He stumbled to the bathroom without turning on any lights. It was still habit, though Bucky wasn’t around to grumble about them waking him up. Steve actually couldn’t remember the last time they had shared a bed. The thought stung, but Steve shook it off before it could add any weight to the grief already lurking in his chest. In a quick fit of pique, he flipped the light on.

The medicine cabinet was practically empty. _Just like my life_ , he thought morosely. Floss, shaving cream, orange prescription bottle. He held the bottle in his hand, grimacing as he read the instructions again. The time for refills had come and gone without him having used more than five.

Technically, they were antidepressants (or rather ‘for the treatment of anxiety disorders caused by depression’ according to the small print) but they had a sedative effect. He hated that diagnosis and he hated the pills. He hated the idea that he needed to take drugs to feel _normal_. Or what his therapists called normal, anyway. Lots of soldiers had trouble adjusting to civilian life.

 _Civilian life_. Steve hated that phrase too; it wasn’t conducive to integration. Every time he heard it at the VA he felt _alien_ , _outcast_ by his experiences. Just another way of segregating those coming back from those who’d never left.  

Steve took a deep breath in, held it for a count of seven, and released it in one huge rush. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he popped a pill in his mouth, watching as he swallowed it dry. Much as he hated to rely on pharmaceuticals, he couldn’t stand to relive his night with Tony over and over until morning.

He’d get one good nights worth of sleep, at least and call Sam in the morning. He was done fumbling around in the dark waiting for Bucky. He had to take care of himself at some point.

***

Steve woke feeling refreshed. It was unfamiliar, but nice, until his guilt from the previous night came rushing back; Tony’s tear-soaked face looming in his mind. He growled in frustration at his emotional turmoil, launching himself from his bed.

Checking his phone, he was surprised to see that he had three missed calls from Nat. Oh right, he was supposed to see her at the party and let her know how things went with Tony.

Well, he wasn’t ready for the verbal reaming she would probably let loose and he needed to be in a better headspace to make some decisions about his life’s direction. Yeah, therapy really wasn’t his thing but he occasionally learned something worthwhile, like ‘healthy headspace’.

It was later than he usually slept by a landslide. It was that awkward time of day where it’s too late for breakfast to be anything but brunch and lunch just sounds silly. He was hungry, but didn’t want to put off this conversation much longer. It was definitely late enough to call Sam.

“Steve! How’ve you been, man?” The tenseness in his chest loosened immediately with Sam’s enthusiastic greeting.

“Hey Sam. You know, same old same old. How about you?” Deflecting already? He knew Sam wouldn’t go for it.

“I’m great, really. But I know you don’t just call me up for ‘same old same old’. So what’s really up? You hit a rough patch up there?”

Even though Sam was probably talking about his PTSD, it summed up things very nicely. “Yeah, you could say that, but it’s not really about what you think.”

“Oh? Tell me about it.” It was one of the things Steve really appreciated about Sam; if he said it wasn’t about his ‘diagnosis,’ he was believed. There wasn’t a trace of skepticism in Sam’s voice, unlike some people who always wanted to blame any blip in his emotional status as a traumatic flare up.

Steve had emotions, always had. He was human. Was that so hard for people to understand?

“Well, I met this guy, Tony. He’s a mechanic with a serious caffeine addiction. He’s funny, smart. Nice to everyone in his own and, oh god, he’s handsome. Built too, just the right kind of a– ”

“Aaand that’s all I need to know! That’s great, Steve! I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there. So where’s Tony from?”

That was a good question, why hadn’t that come up before? “Oh, I don’t know. Probably somewhere sunny, he’s pretty tan and glow-y.”

Sam scoffed. “Somewhere sunny? So why’s he in New York? I’m guessing you can be a mechanic anywhere.”

“Uhh, I’m not really sure. He and Thor, the guy who owns the mechanic shop have worked together before, so it was probably a case of good timing.”

“Right.  And how long’s he been a mechanic?” Sam was going somewhere with this, judging by his smug tone.

“I don’t know.”

“Ok, one more question. Have you ever actually spoken to the guy or are you just pining from afar?”

Steve hung his head, suddenly understanding. No, he had never had a real conversation with Tony, _just_ Tony. “I guess I skipped a couple of steps! I got some of his coworkers to throw a party last night and bring him to it so that we _could_ talk, but it got out of hand. The night just went so horribly wrong, I don’t really know where to start.”

Turns out, once Steve did get started he couldn’t stop. He blurted out everything from Natasha’s initial idea, Darcy dragging Thor into it, Tony’s cranberry juice, the dickbag who started a fight with Tony, the scene at the hospital and Tony’s parting message. He felt terrible by the end, completely drained and wrung out.

There was silence from the other end of the line. He got the impression that Sam was processing.

“Alright, Steve. I think I’ve got a pretty good picture of how things have been going. Let’s walk through it together and you’ll see where Tony’s coming from, ok?”

“Yeah, thanks Sam.” Steve would be grateful for any advice, really. It had been so long since he’d had to seriously woo anyone. He and Bucky had always just flowed together so effortlessly. Dating was challenging, to say the least, and he hadn’t even gone on an actual date yet!

“So Thor owns the auto shop?” Sam asks.

“Technically, his dad does, but yeah.”

“You got the guy’s boss to invite him to a celebration for a supposed work milestone. You don’t think that maybe he would feel obligated to attend?”

A horrible cold weight seemed to settle in Steve’s stomach as Sam continued.

“It was also his first weekend off after  _starting a business? Practically by himself?_ I’ll bet he had plans, dude.”

All of Steve’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. He couldn’t be that dense, could he? That inconsiderate? At what point did he stop thinking about people other than himself?

“I…I didn’t even realize. Sam, I’ve been such an idiot,” he whispered, disbelieving.

“You are being pretty self-involved, but recognizing the problem is one of the first steps to solving them.”

A tiny bit of hope burst into life, pushing away a small amount shame Steve was currently buried under.

“Obviously Tony has some issues, probably unresolved, and a lot of grief. He probably wasn’t equipped to deal with them the other day, especially if he’s been a high-stress mindset for a while. It’s completely understandable if he is embarrassed that you saw that or angry that he was tricked; it’s well within his rights to blame you and your cronies for what happened.”

The whole situation was a giant mess and it was all Steve’s fault. He needed a plan, some route of action. “What can I do to fix it?”

“You should start with an apology. For the party and everything that happened there, for not listening to him, and maybe for objectifying him a little bit. Depending on how he responds to that, you should let him know that you realize you saw something deeply personal and that you won’t mention it if he doesn’t want you to. Because you won’t be mentioning his anxiety attack, or his alcoholism to anyone beyond me. And you won’t be asking who Ronnie is. Right, Steve?

Show him that you’re capable of being a good friend and he may eventually forgive you. BUT! Steve, you have to have enough respect for the guy to back off if that’s what he wants.  No matter how much you want this. He has to want it, too.”

Steve agrees, everything Sam says makes sense. It’s how friends should treat each other. Speaking of friends that aren’t treating each other right, he asks about Bucky. Casually, of course. Sam doesn’t need to reveal anything about his treatment. Steve just _needs_ to know that Bucky’s doing ok.   

Sam goes silent. “Sam? Spit it out,” a sense of dread starting to thicken the base of his throat.

“I don’t know if you want to hear this, but, he’s seeing someone.”

Steve’s shocked gasp is loud compared to the quiet that follows it. It’s almost incredible how quiet a heart breaking can be.

“Seeing someone? Someone new? Like in a romantic way?” He hated how desperate and devastated his voice sounded.

“Yeah, he works down at the gym by the VA. He’s a vet, too. I haven’t met him yet, but Bucky seems happy. There was always a chance of this happening, Steve. You knew that when you left.”

“I didn’t…” Air. He needed air. “He asked me to leave. It wasn’t me,” Steve blurted, unable to believe it. Bucky had asked for time, just time and space to work on himself. He never thought it would come to this.

Steve burned with the need to end this call. Isn’t the ceiling crashing down around him? Or the ground falling out from underneath him? It feels like it should be; it would be less of a shock than this. At least Sam seems to understand his urgency.

“Steve, don’t let this be a setback to your recovery, ok? You call me if you start having _those_ thoughts again. I don’t care what time of day it is. You get me, man?” Sam’s voice is firm and pleading at the same time.

Steve acknowledges with a whisper, unable to push any real sound around the lump of emotion in his throat.

“And I hope things go well with Tony. Keep me posted.”

***

“I’m assuming that Friday went well and you spent the entire weekend locked in a bedroom with Tony, fucking him silly and weren’t just ignoring my phone calls.” Nat had him cornered in the stockroom before opening, blocking the entryway, arms crossed.

Steve straightened quickly from where he was unstacking the cartons of assorted plant-based milks, grimacing. Oops, he totally forgot to call Natasha back.

“Sorry Nat, I actually had a really bad weekend and wasn’t fit for conversation,” he said, turning around to face her.

One look at his weekend scruff and purple-shaded eyes had her instantly softening. She pushed off the door toward him, concern etched on her forehead and laid a hand gently on his bicep. “What happened? Are you ok?”

“No, not really. The entire weekend was terrible and Friday was an epic bust,” He grabbed Nat’s hand with his and squeezed gently. She was scary, but a very good friend.

“Yeah, I know, I could tell from all the cops,” Nat added.

“What?! What cops? Where?” he exclaimed.

“That’s what I was calling you about all Friday night,” Nat said, punching his bicep none too lightly. “There were cops all over Thor’s place when I got there and I had to spend most of the night trying to post bail for Bruce.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who’s Bruce?”

Nat rolled her eyes, heading back out to the main room to the coffee machines. Right, they were still had a coffee shop to open. “You know my boyfriend, Clint? Bruce is his roommate. They met in court-mandated anger management classes a few years ago. So, when Bruce is arrested for beating the crap out of someone it takes a while to get him released.”

“Why was he beating someone up?” The only fight Steve was aware of was between Tony and that Loki guy.

“The guy had just thrown someone else off of Thor’s balcony and that kind of pissed him off,” Nat shrugged. “Of course, no one who was still around by the time the cops got there remembered who Loki assaulted or where they ended up. No one was pressing charges against him and it took a lot of persuasion by Thor to get his brother to not press any against Bruce.”

Steve groaned loudly, melting over the counter to rest his head on his arms. “This just gets worse and worse. It was Tony, Nat. Loki threw Tony off the balcony.”

Nat’s face was surprised, which was a sight to behold. “I guess Loki and Tony used to date and it ended badly. They had a small fight and I took Tony to the hospital and then took him home.”

“Wow,” Nat said, composing herself quickly. “So you didn’t fuck him silly all weekend?”

Steve snorted, shaking his head, no.

“Bummer,” she shrugged, heading to the door to flip the lounge lights on and turn the sign to ‘Open’. “I was really looking forward to some good stories this morning.”

***

“Tony?” Steve used the keys Darcy loaned him to step into the reception area of the mechanic shop. Darcy had said that Tony usually came in at least an hour before anyone else was scheduled to come in to open to keep on top of things. It was the perfect opportunity to speak to him privately.

 _A perfectly planned ambush_ , the over-cynical part of him thought. Tony had avoided the House all week and even Darcy was worried about how anti-social the man was being. Well, she was worried that her social media followers would abandon her without another dose of #sleepyboss or a recap of their sarcastic antics.

It was the first time he’d ever been in the shop and he was impressed with how _clean_ it was; inviting, actually. The reception chairs were plush and not overly close to each other with a nice flat screen television along one wall. It wasn’t overly intimidating with car stuff.

Steve snorted when he saw the placard on the large welcome desk that read ‘DARCY’ in what was definitely not a professionally regulated font.

The manager’s office ( _Tony’s office_ ) was open but dark, lit only by the light from the large window inside that showed the shop floor. Steve found the door to the shop via a small hallway to the right of Darcy’s desk, past the restrooms, and stepped through into a wall of noise.

It was head banging metal music, blaring through speakers that sat haphazardly on a table. Steve adjusted enough to look around, amazed. It was controlled chaos. Tools and heavy machinery he had no name for were everywhere, spilling out of toolboxes and set on countertops, but there was also a giant whiteboard with lists of employees, cars, problems, and due dates. There were clearly defined workspaces with logo-d clipboards and name placards matching Tony’s manager sign.

His attention was caught by a larger cubby, probably whoever was in charge when Tony wasn’t around, where a huge poster of Rosie the Riveter hung. There was some writing in sharpie toward the bottom that he stepped closer to read.

_I bow before the genius of the machinery goddess! To Sif – Tony._

Steve continued to rake his gaze over Tony’s realm until he saw a pair of legs coming from under a nondescript pickup truck. Gathering his courage, Steve reached out for the stereo and turned the music off.

Half a moment of silence before tools clattered to the ground, and Tony rolled out from under the truck yelling. “What the fuck?!”

Stepping into view, Steve said, “Hi Tony.”

Tony stared, appearing quite surprised. Steve was disappointed the see that Tony’s arm was still held close to his body in a blue nylon sling.

“Uh, Steve. Hi.” He struggled to his feet and Steve fought the urge to rush over to help. “What brings you to the shop? Car trouble? We don’t open for another coupla hours.” Tony leaned back against the truck hood, expression revealing nothing.

“No, I just wanted to check on you, see if you were doing alright after last weekend.” He’d rehearsed this conversation so many times, but the awkwardness of reality was hitting hard.

“After the Friday night from hell?” Tony smirked coldly. “Yes, I’m doing fine, thanks. Is that all?”

Steve cringed and almost took the cowards way out. “No, Tony. I also owe you an apology. A big one. I’m sorry that I went behind your back and had your coworkers trick you into going to a party where you were hurt. And I’m not just talking about that,” he nodded toward Tony’s arm.

“I’m sorry that you were put into a situation that you’re obviously not comfortable in with people you didn’t want to see. I was selfish and not thinking about you at all, really. I realized some things this weekend and one of them is that I don’t like who I am right now.

I used to be a better man, Tony. The man I used to be would have done this the right way. He would have gotten your number and called you twice a week just to hear your voice. He would know your favorite color and how long you’ve been a mechanic. He would know better than to bring you to a boozy party.

He would have asked you to dinner and meant it. So I’m sorry Tony, for not being better for you. I’d like to make it up to you, though and I don’t care how long it takes. If you’re willing, that is.”

Tony’s eyes were huge and his mouth was gaping open a small amount. It was adorable.

“I could really use a friend in my life right now, Tony. How about you?” Steve held out a to-go cup of coffee from the House like a lifeline. He can see it shaking in his grip. Tony stares at it for a long, awful moment, but then steps forward, taking it. His fingers just barely brush Steve’s and Steve savors it.

Tony sips. “Well you already know how I take my coffee, red’s my favorite color, been a mechanic for 14 years.” His voice softens and he smiles, it’s small but honest. “And yes, I could use a friend.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony deals with his co-workers and needs to find a daycare for Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo... so I'm not dead, just busy. We're moving, so it's been beyond hectic and I was writing this in tiny spurts. Hope it doesn't come across as too choppy as a result! :)

Tony woke long before his alarm Monday morning. He should have slept like a rock considering how exhausted he was from the weekend, but his head and shoulder were screaming at him only hours after he lay down to sleep. _Note to self: have painkillers in the nightstand drawer,_ he thought as he trudged to the bathroom for something to help.   

It was a good thing, too; it took him a ridiculously long time to shower and dress with his arm protesting every jostle until the drugs kicked in. After that, it was easy to get a groggy Peter up and dressed in green sweatpants and Hulk t-shirt. Tony picked it out, seeing as it matched how grumpy his son was that morning. Someone had too much fun over the weekend.

Keeping an eye on Peter, so he didn’t take a header into his cereal, Tony drank his coffee and crammed the favorite toys and puzzles into the bag to take to May’s. As such, it was a snoozing, grumbling armful of toddler that he passed to his landlady before the sun had fully risen.

It was a fairly brisk morning, Tony noted as he walked to the shop, his thin long sleeve doing little against the faint chill. _Fall in New York, right._ Much different than San Diego or New Mexico. He’d have to buy a few things to prepare. Pepper could probably tell him what the necessities were.

He was delighted to see that the shop hasn’t burned down while Sif was in charge. As expected, the shop was pristine; well, as pristine as such a mechanic shop floor was capable of being. There was even a memo on his desk, ‘Shift Notes’ detailing how the weekend went. Tony smiled as he read it; hiring Sif was a good decision.

The Shift Notes ended up being a full docket of incoming vs outgoing vehicles, times, resources and supplies used, with a short list of things for Tony to follow up on. It wound up taking a few hours for him to input everything of import into his spreadsheets. He wrote on a sticky to train Sif ASAP on how to enter this stuff herself and give her a promotion.  

Darcy’s whirlwind entrance at fifteen to opening startles him; he had meant to get a bit more done before now.

“Hey boss, how was your – holy shit! What happened to you?” Darcy was in his space in less than two seconds, touching his sling and fussing over the faint facial and neck bruising he still had.

“Got in a bit of an altercation over the weekend, if you must know,” he said, trying to scoot his chair away from her. He hadn’t quite forgotten her role in putting his horrible Friday night together.

“A bit?! More like you got your ass handed to you. Seriously, looks like there was a chokehold, wow.” Darcy moved with him, her perfume and personality crowding him, reminding him of her drunken clinging. It was too much too soon.

“Darcy!” He snapped, her hands instantly shooting back to her side, chastised. “I would like to continue being your friend, but not every moment of my life is open to you or your Instagram account. The phrase ‘personal life’ implies that it is subject only to me. Now, my head is killing me, if you wouldn’t mind getting the shop ready for business.” He stood and went to his file cabinet, opening a drawer, pretending to read a random file.

“Uhhh, yeah. Of course. I know that. I’ll just…go work, right,” Darcy tried to maintain her normal bubbliness but Tony could tell that his words had stung. Guilt had him wanting to shrink, but he kept his back straight, waiting until he heard the click of high heels on the tile; _never show them weakness,_ his father’s words from long ago rang out. Was it time for another pain pill yet?

***

“Pep? Is everything ok? I thought you had a shift tonight?”

It was just after 10pm on Wednesday when Tony heard a brief knock at the door, and the sound of a key in the lock. That limited the number of possible guests to two: Pepper or May. As far as he knew, Pepper was at work and May was watching the soaps she’d DVR-d that day (programming said DVR was one small drop in the bucket of IOU’s Tony had for the woman).

He was betting on May bringing something of Peter’s by, just in case the toddler missed it and caused a fuss. She was considerate that way. So he was beyond surprised to see Pepper walk in, still sporting her scrubs; lavender tonight with her bright white sneakers. How she managed to keep them so white with a job like hers, he had no idea. It was beyond science.

Pepper gave him an undecipherable look, nose scrunched up, somewhere between joyous and the Pepto-Bismol jingle. _Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset – no, stop_. He pulled his thoughts back on track. Pepper: here: why.

She took off her coat and shoes, dumping her bag on the floor before walking over to the dinner table where he was seated.

“I did, but they sent me home early,” she leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the temple, slipping into the chair next to his (the one without a booster seat).

“Ok,” _Vague_ , but he figured she’d get to it in a moment. “Want something to eat? Peter and I had creamed chicken and rice and we’ve got some leftover.”

“God, that sounds amazing right now, Tony. Thank you,” she groaned, resting her arms on the table and plopping her head atop them.

He rustled through the fridge, pulling out the Tupperware from earlier that evening and placing it in the microwave. He watched it carefully; sure to open the door before its obnoxious beeping could fill the apartment and wake his terrible toddler.

Tony set it on the table near Pepper’s elbow, but instead of sitting down he walked to his bedroom and got some supplies from the nightstand. It was always surprising when Pepper did something that reminded him so strongly of Ronnie. Whenever Ronnie had gotten stressed out she’d acted just like this, and he remembered what he used to do to help.

Pepper was eating, her face pensive and tense. He stood behind her, ignoring her questioning noise. Gently, he tugged her elastic hair-tie out, her shoulder length red hair falling loose. He began to brush it, using Ronnie’s favorite soft-bristle brush, feeling the silky strands beneath his rough fingers. Memories of Ronnie’s slightly blonder, longer locks liberated in his mind. For once, he didn’t fight them.

Pepper hummed in content, shoulders releasing their strain. “Ronnie told about this, you know. When you first started dating; she’d go on and on about how much you played with her hair.”

“She had beautiful hair. It was hard to keep my hands off it.” He parted Pepper’s hair in half, tossing one side to the front before beginning a French braid on the right side. “It helped a lot with my recovery. When my hands would get shaky and I’d want nothing more than a drink, she’d sit and let me braid it, and braid it, and braid it. For hours..” he trailed off, tying the right side braid with the elastic band and switching to the other.

They were silent until he finished, tying the two complex braids together before taking a seat. “You ready to tell me what’s up?”

“Well, I applied for a new position at the hospital a couple months ago. Before you were even thinking about moving out here. I’d completely forgotten about it, actually, but they offered it to me today. Don’t get excited yet,” she held out a hand to stop Tony before he could interject with a ‘congratulations.’

“There’s a bit of bad news, too. It’s in the ICU, and that’s an improvement from the ER, which is great, but it’s day shift. 6am to 2pm, Monday through Friday. Also great, for me. Not so much for this arrangement we have for watching Peter,” Pepper finally made eye contact with him, seemingly surprised by the grin on his face.

“Pepper, that is great news!” He leaned to give the shocked woman a hug. “Don’t you dare put your career on hold for Peter and me! We’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” He was careful to keep his breathing steady and his expression happy to hide the panic he was feeling inside.

“Ok,” Pepper’s smile was much wider than it had been when she arrived. “Well, I just wanted to let you know in person, especially since I have to go in on Friday to meet the day team and sign some paperwork. I’ll probably start the new shift next Monday.” She stood, putting on all her outdoor gear.

 _Crap._ That wasn’t a lot time.

“I’ll get out of your apartment so you can get to bed. Thanks Tony.”

“Sure thing, Pep. Anytime,” Tony shut the door behind her, locked it, and leaned on it, eyes closed

 _1\. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10._ He counted in his head, taking deep breaths. Today was Tuesday well, technically Wednesday, going by his watch. He had five days to find a daycare center for Peter that 1) Peter liked. 2) Was close enough to get to via one bus or walking, or minimal combination of the two. And 3) was within his budget.

The budget! Tony grimaced and walked back to the table, pushing Pepper’s dishes to the far side and focusing on his laptop. Moving numbers around on his excel spreadsheet, he tried to find all the money he could. He could go back to one meal a day, lots of peanut butter sandwiches. _Ugh, peanut butter._ He hadn’t even gained back the weight he’d lost when they’d moved. Winter coat for Peter was non-negotiable, but he could get away with layers.

Pulling up the internet, he set his personal search engine up with an algorithm, taking into account cost, ratings, and personnel qualifications for employees and cross-referencing with location and the local bus schedule to find him day care centers to look into.

Perusing the websites of the top 10 results, he sent emails to all, inquiring about setting up appointments as soon as possible to review enrollment. He was going to have to take a day off to deal with that but at least he could bring Peter along and Sif could watch the store.

Now that he had a plan, the initial panic was wearing off. It wasn’t gone completely and probably wouldn’t until Peter was well into his forties; but he could breathe again. He slumped in his chair, letting his forehead hit the dark faux wood of his IKEA table. _We can do this. Don’t worry, Tony, it’ll be fine._ He found himself wishing that his internal voice sounded a little less scared shitless.

***

Tony had managed to arrange it so that he and Peter visited the care centers in such a way that they started with the closest and would end with the farthest. The farthest also happened to be close to the bus line that ran to Pepper’s apartment, so they’d go there to re-group and have snacks afterwards before Tony had to get back to the shop. He’d only been able to swing a half day split with Sif.

As an apology for making Peter ride the bus so much in one day, and just because he wanted to, Tony had found a pretty awesome Captain America action figure at the secondhand store. It was missing the shield, but he figured he could make something from some scrap at the shop and Peter would love it just as much.

Luckily, the bus was nearly empty when they boarded so Tony took them straight to the back. Plopping the despised paisley bag on one end of the long bench seat that ran the back of the bus, he scrunched in with Peter so that they were hidden from view. His shoulder was feeling better and he was out of the sling, but the consistent weight of that dratted bag left it aching slightly. He massaged it gently.

“So we’re going to check out some places for you to go during the day while Aunt Pepper and I are at work,” he said, watching Peter’s eyes as he processed.

“What about Miss May? Why can’t I stay wi’ her anymore?” His head tilted adorably to frown at Tony.

“Of course you can still stay with Miss May,” he fluffed Peter’s hair, more for his own comfort than anything. “She’s just busy sometimes and isn’t home, so we have to find another place.”

Peter nodded his understanding. “But you know who’s going to help us today?” Huge, intrigued brown eyes looked up at him.

“Who?” Peter whispered, the volume not dimming his enthusiasm at all.

Tony reached into the paisley bag and pulled out the action figure, presenting it to Peter with a “Ta-da!” and a flourish.

“Captain America!” The resulting squeals of delight were quite loud, making Tony laugh and gently shush his son, giving an apologetic wave in response to the bus driver’s glare in the rearview mirror.

Tiny hands scrabbled to grab the action figure from Tony’s. “Wow,” he breathed. Chubby fingers wandered over every bit of the shiny red and blue figure, taking no notice of the scuffs and evidence of its prior ownership. “He’s amazing, tuh’hank you, Daddy!”

Tony’s eyes widened. It wasn’t perfect, but Peter had almost said a ‘th’ phrase. He’d been trying not to show it but he was nervous about the lingering phonics issue. All the websites he’d visited said it would come with time and not to worry until Peter was a little older.

He pulled Peter into his lap, hugging and pressing his cheek against his soft brown hair. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

Thankfully, having Captain America by his side made Peter a true trooper. It was only by the time they disembarked the bus for the last appointment did he start to fuss. They still had a few minutes to kill, so Tony sat cross-legged in the grass by the bus stop and pulled some of the pouched applesauce from the paisley bag, as well as some water in a sealable sippy cup. Someone out there was probably making a lot of money off of that patent.

“Do you and Cap want a snack?”

Peter nodded, refusing to sit, but leaning heavily on Tony’s shoulder, one arm loosely wrapped around his neck. He slurped the applesauce noisily; well, it was noisy from four inches away. They didn’t talk, Tony just let Peter eat and get a handle on his emotions. He’d learned long ago that pushing him at this point only led to a full-blown tantrum.

He couldn’t help but think about the events of the previous morning at the shop. The last thing he’d ever expected was for Steve to show up at six am with an apology, of all things. He’d couldn’t remember what he’d said to Steve Friday night, but he figured it wasn’t pretty. Emotional stress tended to bring out the worst in Tony and his tongue was ever sharp.

Tony didn’t want to get involved; not really, not now. The timing was wrong, just like every other thing to ever happen to him. His life was a mess and he was just starting to piece himself and his family back together.

Anything with Steve would be messy. Of that, there was no doubt in his mind. There’s no way they could be just friends; as awful as that Friday night had been he was haunted by the phantom press of Steve’s body, the warmth of his lips. He couldn’t be friends with Steve, not when he wanted.

It was made all the worse by the conviction and earnestness in Steve’s voice as he made his apologies. Every word rang true. He’d noticed that the coffee held in Steve’s outstretched hand, such a literal olive branch, was shaking. Steve had been nervous! His entire large frame trembling minutely. Tony’s heart, already so haphazardly stitched together, had broken just a little. He couldn’t deal with Steve being in such anguish, so he’d reached for that paper cup, cursing himself the fool all the way.

He’s snapped out of his reverie when Peter’s arms both encircle his neck and all his weight hangs for a moment before dropping into Tony’s lap, stretched out like a princess or a large cat.

“Guh! Thanks buddy,” he grunted, pulling little arms away from him in order to lean down and blow a series of huge raspberries on the pudgy baby belly.

Peter was suddenly screeching and giggling like mad, limbs flailing as he tried to push Tony’s face away or escape. It was not happening. Tony threw in some armpit and neck tickles for good measure. When Peter was just the right side of breathless he lifted the boy to his feet and kissed him.

“You ready for the last place before Aunt Peppers?”

“Yeah!” Peter exclaimed, helping Tony pack up their mini-picnic and taking his hand to walk the last block or so to the school.

The exterior of the building was intimidatingly utilitarian; very grey and square with a well-manicured lawn. Tony took a fortifying breath and strode into SHIELD Academy. Tony was the most interested in this place; in addition to daycare for younger children, they offered private schooling for grades K through 5. If Peter liked it here, he could probably plan on long-term and maybe apply for some financial aid.

A slim man in a sharp, black suit turned from where he’d been talking to the receptionist to greet them. “Hello, I’m Phil Coulson, director of the Academy. You must be the Starks. Welcome,” his voice and handshake as straight-laced as his outfit.

Tony felt suddenly slightly slovenly, especially as he followed Coulson’s gaze to the blob of applesauce on his shoulder. Thanks Peter.

“Yes, hello. I’m Tony and this is Peter,” Tony says, releasing the man’s hand to riffle through the paisley bag for a napkin. _Goodbye applesauce and goodbye good impression…._

“And tuh’is is Captain America!” Peter declares, a bit too loudly, holding his action figure up with both hands for Coulson’s inspection.

“Inside voice, buddy, remember?” Tony asks gently. It was a new concept for the toddler, one that bore repeating.

Peter nodded, “Sorry, Daddy.”

Coulson was smiling at this exchange. Was that approval? “Well, let’s start with a tour of the facility, I’ll show you where Peter’s class would be, then we can stop back by my office to discuss finances and any learning objectives you may already have for your son.

“Feel free to leave your bag here with Mr. Sitwell, our primary administrative assistant and receptionist.” The man at the desk scrambled to click over on his computer screen as Tony walked over, but he still caught a glance of some silly online game. Ha! This place had character.

The rest of the tour went very well. Tony was impressed by the school and with Coulson; the man’s humor was dry and he was friendly despite his somewhat crusty exterior. He interacted with Peter and Captain America, as necessary.

He could tell that Peter was won over when they peeked into the classroom he would be placed in; the place was in a tumult of cheerful laughter and frolicking children. Tony had seen him try to make friends at the park, which was great, but it was hard to know when he’d see any of those kids again. This would be a chance for him to socialize consistently.

“Craft hour,” Coulson stated. “We do have a structure for how the days are spent, I can share it with you, if you’re still interested in enrolling.”

“Peter, what do you think?” Tony asked, kneeling to get Peter’s attention, which was riveted on the fun inside.

“Yes! Yes! Daddy, please!” Peter hopped in place, grabbing Tony’s hand to make his point.

It was the ‘please’ that did him in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is still trying to make amends but Tony is the master of avoidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm back to this verse!! Sorry for the obscenely long delay, but hope you enjoy this little bit :)

“Going to lunch soon?” Nat asked from across the room. The House is completely empty except for a couple of single-seaters, attention firmly focused on their laptops and headphones. It’s just about eleven, which is actually a little late for lunch, since they’ve been open since five and he and Nat are usually there preparing by four-thirty and his shift is over in an hour.

He stops wiping down the drink pick-up area and thinks for a minute, smiling when he gets a brilliant idea. “Yeah, I’ll be down at Tony’s place. Text me if you need me.” With that he swaps his apron for a light jacket, grabs his lunch bag from his cubby, and is about to leave with a wave to Natasha when she slides a to-go cup to him.

“Gift for the host, you heathen.” He takes it and brushes her cheek with a kiss, making her smile.

“You’re a genius! Thanks!” Then he’s out in the brisk air and sunshine with a huge grin on his face.

Darcy is reclining in her chair with her earbuds in but she smiles and waves at him when he comes in, nodding when he gestures to Tony’s office, that has the door mostly closed. It’s quiet in the reception area but he can hear the faint sounds of pounding music, power tools, and the occasional shout coming from the garage area.

Peeking his head into Tony’s office, he took a moment to watch the man at work. He was focused on his computer screen; clicking around and typing quickly, muttering to himself too quietly for Steve to really hear. His hair was fluffed like he’d run his hands through it more than a few times and he was chewing rather absently on a pen cap. Steve smiled at how adorable it was, but it dimmed slightly when he caught the dark circles and stress lines around Tony’s eyes. He needed to change that, pronto!

He knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open enough to fit his shoulders, and throwing his most winning smile on. “Hey Tony!”

It worked just as he’d hoped. Tony glanced up in surprise and then shock, pen cap falling from his slightly gaping mouth. “Uhhh, hey Steve,” Tony said, shaking his head slightly. “What brings you around?”

Steve turned to shut the door behind him, partially for privacy and partially to give him a moment to hide the victorious smirk he could feel on his face. “Nothing much, I’m just taking a late lunch break and thought maybe you’d be on yours, too.” He makes it a question, letting a bit of hope color his voice.

“Oh. Is it lunch already?” Tony glanced down at his watch, but Steve managed to catch something odd in his expression; was that embarrassment?

“Yeah, for me anyway. Is it ok that I’m here? If you’re busy I can take a hike, no problem.” As much as Steve wanted to spend even an hour with Tony, he knew that their tentative friendship was still so very delicate and that he needed to continue to step carefully.  

The change in Tony was immediate, he sat up straight, a smile making the stress around his eyes dissipate, and cleared some of the paperwork away from his desk. “No, no, please. It’s no problem. Sit, sit!” He gestured wildly at the two nice visitor chairs and Steve sat in one gratefully, noting how pleasantly cushioned it was.

This could be the best idea he’s ever had.

He put his lunch bag on the desk and held the coffee cup out to Tony, ignoring how the gesture brought butterflies to his stomach as it reminded him of their emotional tete-a-tete in the garage a few days prior. His hand didn’t shake and he was pretty proud of that.

Tony looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised. “F-for me?” The little stutter made Steve’s heart melt. This guy would be the death of him for sure.

“For letting me crash your space for lunch. The darkest brew we’ve got. You know you want it.” He waved it slowly back and forth, chuckling when Tony snatched it from him, holding it as close to his nose as possible and breathing in deeply.

“Aaahhhh,” he sighed, eyes closing in what Steve assumed was bliss. “In that case, you are quite welcome, Steve.” Tony took a long, slow sip and Steve shamelessly watched, enthralled by the fall of dark lashes and the gentle bob of an adam’s apple.

When Tony opened his eyes, they immediately found Steve’s and crinkled up in an honest smile. It was a new one for Steve and he carefully filed it away with the sleepy one he’d gotten the first time he’d given Tony a coffee.

“So. Lunch?” Steve asked, wrenching his gaze away to get his food out.

Tony glanced around his desk, looking a bit pink in the cheeks again. “I…uh… I forgot my lunch actually.”

Steve laughed a little, hoping to put Tony at ease. “It happens. You want some of mine? I always pack extra just in case I hit the gym after work.” By extra he meant practically a double lunch because he was always hungry, but it was a fortuitous coincidence for today. He didn’t even wait for Tony to respond; he had extra food and his friend had none. It was pretty cut and dry for him, so he put his extra sandwich, orange, and a baggie of trail mix on the other side of the desk.

“Really? Are you sure?” Tony sounded hesitant, hand hovering over the bagged ham and cheese. There was a vulnerability there that Steve didn’t understand, but didn’t want to linger.

“Of course! Now I’m really glad I decided to stop by.” Steve bit into his sandwich enthusiastically and kept talking through his mouthful. “I mean, it’s nothing fancy, but it’s food, right?”

“Thank you, Steve,” Tony said quietly, still more reserved than normal. Steve just made a noise of agreement, too busy chewing and contemplating this new behavior, but he can’t make heads or tails of it so he watched as Tony unwrapped his sandwich and took a large bite. He savored it a moment and then it’s gone before Steve even finished his own.

“Tony, are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Steve couldn’t put his strange concern into words without sounding condescending so he brushed it off. “Just checking. So, my cooking skills meet muster?”

Tony flushed slightly. “I may have skipped breakfast today, too, but yes, that was amazing. Thanks again.”

“No problem, I’m sure you keep plenty busy around here.” He gestured at all the paperwork on Tony’s desk.

“Oh man, it’s completely nuts! I’ve never really done the management side of things, let alone had to start a place from scratch. I didn’t think we were gonna make it.” Tony rolled his chair to the side of the desk to peel his orange over the trash can there.

“You could’ve fooled me. I mean look at this place! It’s awesome! This is the snazziest and cleanest auto shop I’ve ever been in. Everyone seems happy to be here, you’ve done an amazing job here. You should be proud.” Steve meant it, he’s beyond impressed with what Tony’s capable of, and kept his expression open and honest as Tony analyzed him from less than two feet away.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m just glad the hard part’s over. I’ve been reading some of the free coursework materials from one of the business management schools and it’s been helping with the day to day. I still have no idea how Thor convinced his dad that I was the man for the job without an MBA. Have you met the guy? He’s pretty snooty.” Tony’s eyebrows waggled up, obviously unimpressed as he tossed an orange slice in his mouth.

Steve snorted at Tony’s description. “No, I haven’t but he’d have to pretty out there to raise a guy like Thor, right? Dude’s pretty unique.”

“Understatement of the year.”

“How’d you guys meet, anyway?”

Something shuttered behind Tony’s eyes, but there’s a smile on his face and Steve wished he could tell if it was real or not. Tony’s really good at faking it, he’s started to realize.

“Bar brawl in New Mexico. Best I’ve ever been in. Met Sif there, too. Let me tell you, that woman can fight! It was incredible!”

“Bar brawl?” Steve’s jaw dropped a bit. Tony does look like he can hold his own, but that’s not what he expected.

“I was pretty wild back then,” Tony grinned at him broadly. “Came out of it with a bunch of new friends, my first gig as an auto mechanic, a hangover, and a busted face.”

“Uhh… I guess that sounds like fun.” It really didn’t. At all.

Tony burst into laughter, so loud and sudden it took him aback. It was a gorgeous sound and he wanted to hear it every day.

“Have you ever been in a bar brawl? And I’m talking in a real dive with bad odds and worse drinks, the works.”

Steve shrugged. “Not by those standards, no, but I’m no slouch in a fight.” He and Bucky had been quite the terrorizing duo when they’d just turned 21. The world had opened up at their feet and they’d jumped in headfirst with a battle cry.

“I’ll bet you are,” Tony said breathily and Steve looked up to find Tony’s gaze roving over his upper chest and arms appreciatively. It was almost a relief to know Tony actually found him attractive, gave him something to work with while he wooed the man.

He flexed his pecs because, _why not?_ No one ever said Steve was a saint. “See something you like?”

Tony locked eyes with him, unrelenting. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Wow. Childish.” He would have kept going with the teasing because this was actually fun, but Tony’s cell phone was ringing, vibrating its way across the desk. Tony’s face absolutely lit up when he saw the caller ID.

“Sorry Steve, but I have to take this. Thanks for lunch, this was great.”

It was indeed. Steve was definitely going to make this a standing thing. He felt a driving need coming from somewhere deep in his gut to get to know Tony. To break him down to the basics and build him back up so that he could understand.

Steve waved, gathering his trash as Tony answered.

“Rhodey! Honeybear! Light of my life! What are you doing calling me?!” Tony sounded incredibly fond and Steve had to force himself to keep walking.

Who was this Rhodey?

Competition? Bring it on.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reminisces about the changes in his life and thinks... this is pretty good.

Being back in New York again after so many years spent running from it was surreal at times. It was completely different, of course. Compared to before, he had friends, he had a makeshift little family that actually seemed to care about him; it was taking some getting used to that’s for sure.

He leaned casually against the door to his office, watching Steve and Darcy joke with one another after one of their impromptu lunches. He refused to call it a date because Steve hadn’t actually asked him out; he’d just stopped by for lunch. Casual. Friendly. As in something done with friends. But repetitively, so that was an unknown variable.

Tony didn’t understand what was going on at all, but he didn’t mind. Steve had apparently taken their conversations to heart and backed down from his full-tilt pursuit. Some part of him felt that he should have been disappointed with that, but that particular part of his anatomy could just deal. Steve was respecting his boundaries, that by itself was a marvel he wasn’t familiar with. It was a sad but true state, and he was determined to savor it for a long, long time.

Steve waved at Tony as he slipped out the door, the annoying as shit bell tinkling obnoxiously with the disruption and Tony saluted back with a smile. He didn’t realize he was staring at where Steve’s large figure had disappeared until Darcy spoke up. 

“So when are you gonna let him actually take you out to lunch?”

Startled, he responded harshly. “Why? You got money on it?” 

Let’s not start this again, please, he thought. His shoulder still ached occasionally from dislocating it the last time everyone got too involved in his love life and the cold turn of the weather was doing it no favors.

Darcy looked a little chagrined and Tony hardened himself against it. She was a good kid, but some lines shouldn’t be crossed. “No, but he’s been coming over to eat lunch with you almost every day. You’ve got to know he’s crazy about you.”

Tony scoffed, looking at the ground. “Things aren’t that easy, Darcy.” It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, he’d have to be about as dense as a boulder to miss Steve’s heated glances and the meaning behind his constant attention, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted to. Taking the plunge was a scary endeavor.

“But!” She protested and he stopped her with a look that he often used on Peter when he didn’t want to pick up his toys and it quelled whatever objections she had. “Sorry, Tony. You’re right, it’s not my business.” He nodded in agreement; glad she was getting the idea. “You guys would make a super cute couple, though.”

“Darcy.”

“Shutting up now! Never mind! I said nothing.” She was suddenly engrossed in her computer screen.

“Better.” He allowed a smile to quirk up one side of his mouth. “Any weekend plans? You seeing that Ian kid again?”

“Nah, dropped him a little bit ago. Might hit a party or two but I should spend some time doing homework. Finals tend to sneak up on me.” She shrugs rather nonchalantly. Apparently they weren’t worth too much worry.

“You know you’re welcome to do your homework here when we’re slow, right? I mentioned that?” Darcy was a smart girl who was going to go way further than their little auto shop. He knew from experience that even the smallest bit of support could mean the world.

Darcy’s eyes widen and he snickers aloud, knowing full well that she’d already been doing that without bothering to consult him. “Good girl, Darcy.” He’s still smiling when he sits down at his desk.

His friendship with Darcy is another unexpected thing. In Seattle, he’d been too stressed all the time; too busy working as many hours as possible to cultivate anything personal with any coworkers. He liked it, it reminded him of when he he’d started working in New Mexico and it was all fun and games all the time. Sure, that had ended with an abusive relationship, a frightening substance dependency and a midnight dash to another state, but it had been the first time in his life when he could honestly say he’d had _fun_.

These lunches with Steve were nice, too, though. If Steve was planning on moving this along, well, Tony wasn’t ready yet. Steve was young and bright, taking college courses and keeping in shape; he wasn’t the type to be tied down with a single father and a boatload of debt. No, it was better this way. Tony could keep his friends and his dreams separate from his home life.

Anyway, he had work to do, so he pulled up the latest order sheet and got to it. Figuring out his emotional status was not a priority right now.

***

“Daddy!” Peter ran toward him, full speed, launching himself into Tony’s waiting arms for a hug and a sloppy kiss. It was the highlight of Tony’s day.

“Hey Petey-bug! How was school today, bud?”

“Good Daddy! Harry and I played avengers and I was cap!”

“That sounds great, buddy. Who was Harry?” He moved Peter so that he was sitting on his hip and hanging onto the shoulder that wasn’t aching.

 “Harry was tuh bad guy,” Peter said, happily taking a sippy cup of watered down juice from Tony with both hands.

“Really?” Usually it was up to the adults or the imagination to provide the villainy during playtime.

“He likes to be tuh bad guy, it’s ok cuz we need a bad guy.”

“Well, I think we can play some more when we get home, so who do I get to be?” He listened to Peter chatter on about what character from his favorite cartoon he would be while they walked from the school to the bus stop.

Peter’s favorite was indeed Captain America and had even insisted that his new coat have the logo. Luckily, the thrift store had a few things in pretty good condition that he was able to pick up; there was the added bonus of the coat being so awesome it was harder to get Peter to take it off than put it on.

Peter having friends, that was another thing he was loving about their new life. Seeing the difference it made in Peter, how lively and talkative he was, how social he was being, and how much he was learning, made him tense with guilt that he hadn’t done it sooner.

He brushed it away though, as they got on the bus to take the short trip home, shivering slightly as they went from the cold of outside to the heated interior. A new coat of his own was definitely something he needed to buy as soon as possible.

“Can Harry come to my birfday party?” Tony took a moment to wonder at Peter’s new way of getting around the ‘th’ sound, probably something he picked up from the other toddlers, but was this a step forward or backward? He filed it away to look up later.

“Of course he can, as long as his parents say its ok. Can you get their number for me so I can call them?” Peter’s birthday day was still over a month away but the kid was excited anyway and Tony couldn’t blame him. This would be his first official ‘party’ that would have more than Tony in attendance and he was planning on going all out, whatever the cost. Cake, balloons, games, the works. His son deserved it. Tony was even going to build Peter a bike that would look like Captain America’s motorbike; he’d gotten the base model he was going to rip apart at a yard sale and it was hiding in storage at the garage.

It was going to be the best birthday ever because Rhodey would be stateside for the celebration. He hadn’t seen his best friend in months because he’d been busy overseas being ‘Mr. All Important Lieutenant-Colonel’ but he had leave just in time for Peter’s birthday, which was perfect. Rhodey was probably Peter’s favorite person in the whole wide world; the kid absolutely adored his ‘Uncle Rhodey’.

Tony was pretty excited, too, to be honest. Rhodey had long been a stabling influence in his life and he missed the guy like crazy. Their phone call had been too short for him to get into the weird game of chicken he and Steve had been playing and he was eager for his friends’ perspective.  Once he got in town though, there would be plenty of time for catching up.

They got off the bus less than a block away from the apartment, Peter content to hold his hand as they slowly made their way home. Tony shivered at a gust of wind, feeling a slight tickle at the back of his throat, but coughed slightly and it disappeared. Thank goodness. He didn’t have time to get sick.

“Want to get the mail, buddy?” Tony asked, pulling out the key to their unit when they reached the large silver box.

“Yeah!” Peter jumped excitedly up and down, his enthusiasm for such small silly things making Tony smile.

“Alright, here’s the key,” he handed it to his son and picked him up so that he could fumble the key into the hole and pull out the few things shoved in. “Anything good?”

He let Peter rummage through the pile, most of it looking like junk coupon stuff. “Yes! This one looks important.” Tony took the envelope from him, grimacing when he saw the Seattle hospital logo in the return address space. Great. Perfect timing. He’d almost forgotten that a payment was due soon. Too soon.

His brain instantly went into panic mode, numbers running through almost faster than he could process, trying to find any extra money but he suppressed it harshly. Now was not the time for a meltdown, he needed to get home, make dinner for Peter, then play and probably a bath. Maybe he could roll those two into one. Peter in the bath was definitely a wet and wild adventure.

Once Peter was asleep he could freak. Yeah, his wife had been dead for years, but he still owed thousands on her treatment. It was just one more way for the world to kick him while he was down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another kinda slow chapter but I promise the next couple will knock your freaking socks off!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes matters into his own hands and finally asks Tony out on a real date... how bad could it go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the chapter we've all been waiting for!! Anyway, slight warning for a teensy bit of adult content, nothing too major though :)

Sam called him as he was leaving the gym, duffel slung over one shoulder and sweat rapidly cooling on the back of his neck. He answered with a grin, swiping across the screen with his thumb.

“Sam! Hey!”

“Hey Steve, what’s up, man?”

“I don’t know, but things are looking up,” he said honestly. Life was good, he was happy to say. Spending his lunch breaks getting to know Tony was definitely one of his brighter ideas. There was just something about the man that made him smile, even if Tony was sometimes too busy to really chat; Steve was content to munch on his lunch and doodle Tony’s handsome face all over his sketchbook.

“That’s great news! You make up with Tony, then?”

Sam knew him too well. “Yep! I apologized for making an ass of myself and we’re moving forward as friends. I’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately.”

“Awesome, I’m proud of you, Steve. Are you thinking this could lead to something more?”

“I think so, but maybe you can help me out with this. I hope I’m not reading too much into it, but Tony’s really good at deflecting personal questions. Even things that aren’t personal, per se, but could lead somewhere, he shuts me down. It wasn’t even noticeable at first, but I actually wrote down a list of questions, things I want to know about him, and I just can’t get real answers.”

Sam hums and Steve gives him time to formulate an answer as he hurriedly walks home in the brisk air.  “Deflection is a powerful tool,” he finally said, slowly, as if still thinking over his choice of words. Steve had just reached his apartment building and was trudging up the stairs. “Lots of people use it when they’re feeling insecure or if they’re hiding something, and I don’t mean dirty secrets, I’m talking about crucial, defining moments that haven’t been fully come to terms with yet.”

“Insecure?”

“I would call it an engrained defense mechanism and from what you described of Tony’s behavior _before_ , it’s probably all related to some trauma he doesn’t want to bring up. I say insecure, meaning more that he doesn’t trust you on a level where he’s comfortable bringing it up, so he’s avoiding all topics that could lead you there.”

“Oh,” was all he could say to that. It made sense. It made too much sense. Tony clammed up when Steve asked about his past and he knew that Tony had lost someone named Ronnie and it was deeply traumatic. “So you think he’s just avoiding anything that could possibly lead to a conversation about that?”

“Probably. I mean I wouldn’t be able to tell for sure without a session but it’s a solid guess.”

“A solid guess? You give that to all your clients?”

“Just the ones that don’t pay me. I’m not even getting pizza and beer for this, you cheapskate.”

“Hey! You get your butt up here to visit and I promise there’ll be pizza. On me.”

“Yeah, whatever, promises… So does that help?”

Steve breathes out a huge sigh, partially because he’s uncertain and partially because he finally dropped his butt onto his couch. “I don’t know, Sam. I wish he trusted me, but I know that would be moving too fast. I think action might have to be the way to go; I’ll just have to _show_ him that I’m here for him. That I’m serious about this.”

“Good man, Rogers. That’s the spirit! You got a plan?”

Determination was flooding through his veins in a way he hadn’t felt in ages, since he’d been back from deployment. He’d missed it, this endorphins of taking action, making a decision. It was invigorating! “Not yet. But I will.”

***

Steve went in to work the very next day, rejuvenated and ready to put his plan into action. He had less than a week to woo Tony if this was going to work. It was going to work, he knew it. Tony had been eating less and less lately and, honestly, it was a little worrisome; there wasn’t a lot of ‘extra’ on Tony to spare. So, he was going to do what any good hopefully boyfriend-to-be would do and bring him lunch every day.

Lunch and an orange juice, because he was also looking painfully under the weather. A little vitamin C never hurt anyone, right? 

Surprisingly, Darcy wasn’t at the front desk when Steve came in and neither was the other kid Tony had hired to work when Darcy was at class. What was his name again? Wade? He was an annoying little shit, whatever his name was, always with the dirty jokes and Steve couldn’t quite tell if he had a crush on Tony or not, but found the attention unduly aggravating.

There was the sound of faint coughing coming from Tony’s office and Steve’s heart sank a bit. Dang it, Tony was sick, and even worse, he was _hiding_ it. “Tony? Are you ok in here?” He said aloud as he approached the door. He didn’t want to startle the man since he was probably unaware that he had company. Tony was jumpy enough on a good day.

By the time he peeked his head through the office door, he only managed a glimpse of a tissue before it was slipped into Tony’s pant pocket. Nothing else looked out of place, but now that he was looking for it, Tony definitely had a cold. His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed but he straightened as he saw Steve, a genuine smile lighting his face.

“Hey Steve, I’m fine, don’t be silly.” He gestured at Steve’s regular chair. “Just didn’t hear you come in.”

Steve put a lunch on Tony’s side of the desk, taking a moment to shake and open the small jug of orange juice before he sits. There’s a faint tinge of color to Tony’s cheeks as he slowly reaches for the drink. “Thanks Steve.”

“No problem. Yeah, no Darcy or, uh, Wade today?” He couldn’t help the tiny bit of spite that comes out when he says Wade’s name. He just didn’t like the way the kid flirted with Tony. It wasn’t a major character flaw or anything and Steve couldn’t figure what his own problem was.

“Nah, Darcy’s got a big exam today but she’ll be in later and Wade’s out sick, so he can’t cover. It’s fine, we’re not that busy right now anyway, so I can handle it for a few hours.”

“Sick, huh? You guys get decent time off for that?” Steve was going for nonchalant, but Tony’s eyes narrow at him like he’s not buying it.

“We do, we’ve got dental too if you’re looking for a part time receptionist gig.”

Back away slowly! “Not at the moment, no, but I’ll keep it in mind,” Steve said with a smirk and a large bite of turkey club on rye. 

Something was different about Tony this week and he hoped it had nothing to do with this Rhodey character but it wasn’t going to stop Steve’s plan. In fact, it just made him want to do it more. Tony was freer with his conversation, laughing at Steve’s lame attempts at jokes – all crinkled eyes and beaming smiles, and even with the poorly hidden coughs and sniffles, he wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and hug him tight. It made him feel reckless and carefree, so he may have jumped the gun on his plan.

They were standing, both of them on the same side of the desk, Tony headed to check the appointment board and walk Steve out, when he blurted out his big plan.

“Come out with me. This Saturday. One of the art classes I’m taking is having a gallery showing. Our advisor picks our best works of the semester and shows them all fancy at a real gallery downtown. There’ll be tiny snacks and champagne.” He realizes a moment later that champagne is not going to entice Tony to attend.

“Not- not that you would have to drink any. I probably won’t have any. I’ll be too nervous to drink anything. I’m not really used to showing off my art and it would be nice to have you there. We could do dinner too…ummm.” Steve felt like a royal ass. His confidence from that morning giving way to embarrassment at this botched attempt at asking Tony out.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice was light, making Steve look up from where his gaze had been stuck, between the ridge of his collarbone and the hollow of his throat.

Tony was smiling, huge and honest. Not one of his false ones, usually accompanied by a lame ‘I’m fine’ or ‘It’s no big deal.’ No, this was real and rare.

“I’d be honored to go to your first fancy art showing with you, Steve. And dinner sounds good too. I’m pretty partial to Italian, especially if we’re going be all dressed up. A bit more appropriate than pizza, huh?”

Steve’s heart was soaring. Tony would be at his showing! He was _honored_ to be there! Laughing, Steve grabbed Tony around the waist and lifted, hugging him against his chest, not caring in the slightest that Tony’s work boots were knocking into his shins.

Tony was laughing too, that wonderful sound that Steve was already addicted to. Yes, Tony was definitely way too serious for his own good; which was really something coming from Steve. He could hear Sam in the back of his head calling him ‘Captain Contemplative’ for being overly broody all the time.

“Steve, Steve, ok, put me down,” Tony patted at his back affectionately. Reluctantly, Steve set Tony back on his feet and put some distance between them. They were both grinning like idiots and it was the happiest Steve could remember feeling in a long time.

“Ok, so just text me when and where and I’ll meet you there,” Tony said leaning up on his toes to brush a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek. Now he was fit to burst. It was so casual, like they’d always parted this way. “But I’ve got to get back to work now.”

“Right,” Steve slowly backed out of Tony’s office, turning just in time to knock his shoulder painfully against the door jam. He couldn’t be embarrassed, though, he was floating on a haze of delight so he brushed off Tony’s harmless snickers and waved awkwardly.

Darcy smirked at him from behind her glasses. “Smooth, Steve. Real smooth.” When the heck did she get there?

He saluted her with one hand, not able to form a smart retort. Floating on air, isn’t that what they called it? That’s definitely what it felt like. He’d done it. Finally. He’d taken that step and asked Tony out and hadn’t botched it. Now to make it through the next couple of days without exploding from sheer joy. Oh boy.

***

The night of the gallery showing had Steve almost vibrating with nerves. Not only was he nervous about showing his art to all these strangers, along with all of his friends from the House he’d invited, but afterwards he was taking Tony to dinner. He couldn’t quite figure out which was more terrifying, but he was making every effort not to sweat through his suit jacket.

It would be so easy to chug a glass of champagne or two just to take the edge off, but he planned on kissing Tony and he knew that was a sure-fire way to ruin his date. So he refrained, drinking water in an effort to cool himself and fleeing to the bathroom every ten minutes.

He had just returned from one such trip, checking his watch _again_ and wiping his damp palms on his trousers _again_. It was a quarter past when he’d expected Tony to show up but he hadn’t seen him in the gallery yet. True, it was getting pretty busy and he may have missed him in the crowd.

“Hey, Steve.” Natasha’s voice came from behind him, startlingly close.

He whirled, smiling to see his friend looking stunning in a black knee length dress with a generous neckline. She would definitely be breaking hearts around here tonight.

“Natasha! Thank you for coming, you have no idea how nervous I am,” he said, wrapping her in a hug, which she tolerated admirably.

She smiled and he could tell that something was up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a little worried.

“Have you seen your exhibit?” She narrowed her eyes minutely, looking over her shoulder.

“No, actually. I’ve been looking for Tony. I thought we’d go for a first look together. Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“No, Steve, nothing’s wrong with it. It’s an amazing pair, I had no idea you were that good. It’s the subject matter, though. I don’t know if it’s really first date kind of stuff,” she shrugged apologetically.

“Oh no.” Dread began to seep coldly into his chest as he thought about what series of paintings his advisor could have chosen. If it was the pair he thought it was, he had to get to Tony and get him out before he saw.

“Come on,” Natasha grabbed his arm and practically dragged him toward the one side of the room he’d so far been avoiding.

The dread became a bucket of ice down his spine as they came to face his exhibit. ‘The Coin’ was what he’d called it. A depiction of the two sides of a person, the before and after; what war and PTSD could do to a person.

The picture on the left was in muted yellows and oranges, some red. Hot and fierce, the colors of the sunset. The man in the picture was naked, in the throes of passion; sweat caught on a muscular torso, prominent dick straining and veined. Steve could recall sketching out every tendon of Bucky’s neck from memory, every wrinkle that formed at the sides of his eyes, closed in ecstasy.

The other was all greys and dark purple, cold and despairing. It was obviously the same subject, but he was hunched in on himself, one arm gone and replaced with ugly, painful scarring. His face was the opposite of the previous painting, showing nothing but hopelessness and rage from behind a curtain of long, greasy hair.

He hadn’t thought about these paintings in months. They represented such a dark time in his life, when he and Bucky were adjusting to Bucky’s new situation; the prosthetic and their mutual PTSD, the therapy both mentally and physically. The strain it put on their relationship, to the point where it tore them apart and Bucky had told him to leave.

It all came rushing back, leaving him hyperventilating in a cold sweat. Steve realized that his hands were gripping his head and Natasha was trying to comfort him, a series of ‘No’s’ coming from his mouth.

“Steve, come on, let’s step outside and get some air. I’ll text Tony and tell him to meet us outside before he gets here.”

“Tony.” Steve looked at his watch. Twenty-five past. In all his time knowing Tony, the man was never late, which meant he had seen. He had seen an erotic painting of an ex-boyfriend.

Natasha was right; nothing about that was first date material. He brushed off Natasha’s arm and ran out of the gallery, not caring about the offended and shocked glances he garnered. He knew that Tony always took the bus; if he was going to leave, that’s where he would be.

He sprinted toward the nearest bus stop, only a couple blocks away. More than halfway there, passing the few sidewalk vendors open this late, he heard his name being called.

“Steve? Steve!”

He skidded to a stop, turning and stumbling a little in relief. Tony stood in front of a tiny old woman with a basket. Wow, he cleaned up nicely. Dressed in a dark blue suit that fit him like a glove, he was breathtaking in the muted glow of the streetlight that bounced off his dark hair, making it look darker. His face was in the shadows, but his eyes shined brightly, focused and intense. He was beautiful and he was _here_.

“Steve, where are you going?” He stepped closer to Steve, concern on his face. “Are you ok?”

“Tony,” Steve pulled Tony into a hug, tucking his nose against his neck and breathing deeply. “You didn’t leave.” He meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question.

Tony rubbed at his back with both hands, before pushing away gently to cup Steve’s cheeks in his hands. They were rough and warm, callouses from years of hard work grounding him in the moment. “Of course not. I couldn’t find you at the gallery, but I saw your pieces.”

“About that, Tony,” Steve put his hands over Tony’s, he would try to explain and hold on as long as possible. “I’m so sorry. I painted those a long time ago, before I met you and-“

“Sshhh, Steve. It’s ok. I know. They’re gorgeous, Steve. You’re an amazing artist, I was kinda blown away, actually.”

“Really? Then why are you out here?” Steve’s heart rate was starting to come down, leaving him shaky and unsure.

Tony blushed, pulling away from Steve to face the old woman, who was smiling gummily at them both. She handed a single red rose to Tony.

“Thank you,” he said, holding it in turn to Steve. “I wanted to get you this. I was gonna come back.”

Steve took the stem in his trembling hand. He was blown away. No one had ever bought him flowers before. It’s not something he ever thought he wanted, but this? This was maybe one of the most romantic things anyone’s ever done for him.

“Don’t cry, Steve,” Tony whispered, softly wiping away a tear that he wasn’t aware he had shed. “This is supposed to be a good first date.”

“It is, Tony. It is, trust me.” Steve gave into what his instincts have been clamoring for him to do for weeks and he grabbed Tony roughly, pulling him flush against him. Ignoring Tony’s surprised squeak, he kissed him, hard.

He put all his hope and thankfulness and joy into the kiss, taking advantage the moment Tony’s mouth opens for a breath and diving in with his tongue. It’s received with equal fervor, to his delight, Tony’s tongue twisting and dancing with his.

It was the best kiss of his life and when it ends Tony is clinging to Steve’s shoulders and gasping for breath. “Wow,” he said, brown eyes shining up at Steve. “What happens if I buy you a dozen?”

Steve burst into laughter, hugging Tony again just because he can. “What do you say we head for dinner?”

“I’d say _hell yes_ , I’m starving.” Tony grabbed Steve’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “Lead on, good sir."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's thoughts after the date :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo....sorry for the long absence but I have a chapter here and one more almost ready for posting. Enjoy!

Tony stared at his navy blue suit as it hung in the closet, still covered in the plastic from the dry cleaners. Honestly, he’s surprised they could save it. After his last time wearing it, which involved getting soaked in the rain and leaving it on the bathroom floor all night, he hadn’t really had it cleaned. They’d been busy moving and he really didn’t care.

Steve’s art gallery was a formal thing, though, so he’d dug it out, grimacing at the wrinkles and musty smell and promptly called Pepper for a good cheap dry cleaner recommendation. They did a good job. From his spot across it on the bed, it looked like the exact same suit he’d worn to his wedding, to his anniversary, to the court hearings for the drunk driver who’d hit them, on extremely bad dates, and now it was ready for a date with Steve.

The suit was ready, but Tony didn’t know if he was.

Steve had been exceedingly sweet and caring lately, always coming to the shop for lunch just to chat and see how he was doing. Not to mention sharing lunch more often than not and making him eat even though he hated taking handouts. It wasn’t a handout coming from Steve, though; it wasn’t pity for his situation, a sandwich given in sympathy. It was friendship. It was genuine concern and a desire to see him healthy and happy.

Tony didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to rebel, to yell and tell Steve to leave him the hell alone with his misery but he couldn’t. Every time he opened his mouth to say it, to push Steve away, he choked. He remembered how nervous and endearing he was during his apology, how brightly his eyes shone when he smiled, and Tony caved.

He enjoyed Steve’s attention, thrived under it like a sad wilted flower finally seeing the sun and couldn’t give it up. He was afraid, though, and that was unacceptable. What if he gave in to this _thing_ growing between them and then Steve left him? What happened to him, to whatever was left of his poor defeated heart when Steve realized he had a kid and could barely support his own family?

He slumped back on the bed, letting his legs dangle off of the edge and stared at the ceiling instead of the stupid suit. He debated cancelling, but it was halfhearted thought at best. He didn’t want to do that to Steve and he’d actually been looking forward to this all week. It couldn’t be helped.

He’d taken a half day at work and come home for a nap and a shower. No scruff, hair styled a bit, teeth brushed; all he had to do was put on the suit and make sure he caught the bus. He just needed to get over his little meltdown in his underwear first.

His phone vibrated loudly on the nightstand and he fumbled for it one-handedly without sitting up. It was a text from Pepper.

Pepper Potts: Are you dressed yet or still having a psychotic break?

Me: How do you even guess these things?

Pepper Potts: I know you, weirdo. Now put on your pants and go on your date!

He should be alarmed at how well Pep knows him, but he allows it to settle as a comforting warmth deep in his gut. Pepper had graciously agreed to take Peter for the night and they were going to see some new animated movie that had just came out and she’d probably load him up on sugar and watch him crash. Then leave the day after grumpy toddler handling to him. Well, with that in mind, he should definitely enjoy his evening, then.

On went the suit and the shiny dress shoes, no coat because he still hadn’t bought one, but he wasn’t going to be standing outside waiting for the bus for very long. Procrastination does have its perks sometimes. He grabbed the Ziploc baggy of cold medicine that he’d pilfered from the auto shop break room and Darcy’s desk throughout the week. If he took most of it now, he’d be pretty much functional for the rest of the night and not have to worry about coughing or sneezing all over Steve.

His little stolen stockpile wouldn’t last as long as he wished it would if he indulged now, but it was worth it. He could probably afford to buy some of the generic brand stuff, but his budget spreadsheet was almost constantly looming in the back of his head, and the knowledge that he was barely making ends meet was a never-ending source of stress. He could be sick forever as long as they could keep Peter in school and them living in the apartment.

He would never go back to living in the car, not now that Peter was old enough to remember it. It was bad enough doing it the first time, he had no wish to repeat it during an east coast winter.

Shaking off his melancholy took the entire length of the bus ride, but he was able to smile and nod at the old woman with a woven basket full of roses who stood near a steaming hot dog vendor. One upside to the cold that was slowly killing him is that his appetite was nonexistent, which saved him both money and time but he was sure it would backfire at dinner tonight with Steve. That man was way too observant and solicitous to let him get away with not eating on a date.

A date. Jesus. He was actually on a _date_ with Steve. Blonde, big, and beautiful. Or he would be on a date if he had the courage to walk through the door to the gallery. He hadn’t been to a fancy place like this since he left New York however many years ago. The champagne and pretentiousness of the venue reminded him of a history he’d rather not revisit.

But he was here for Steve tonight and despite his reservations, he had the feeling that Steve was worth it. He grasped the handle and pulled open the door, probably more violently than necessary, and strode through, unconsciously straightening his spine and strutting like he owned the place.

It was busier than he would have expected for a showing of students works but everything he could see was very quality artwork. These were indeed the best of the best and he looked forward to seeing Steve’s work. He found it before he found the man and had to stop and stare for a long while. He wasn’t sure what he expected but it certainly wasn’t this; this dark expose of man, lover, soldier captured in a moment of defeat and ruin.

He truly did not know enough about Steve, but perhaps he was capable of more emotional maturity than Tony gave him credit for. The second picture reminded him very strongly of his rehab days, enough that he had to reach a hand into his trouser pocket to hold his chip, to ground himself. Glancing around, he still didn’t see Steve, so he had time to step back outside for a moment.

He would just buy a quick rose for Steve because his piece was phenomenal and it was a bit of a faux-pas to show up empty handed. It was another surprise to have a panicked and apologetic Steve grab him on the sidewalk, but the kiss was to die for. It had been so long since he’d had a date so pleasant and it was just getting started.

Strolling down the street hand in hand with Steve was surprisingly nice. He listened as Steve yammered away about his art classes and how thrilling it was to be on display at a real gallery.

Tony slowed his pace, “Do you want to go back? Enjoy the limelight a little more? I really don’t mind skipping dinner for that if it’s important to you.”

Steve kept tugging him down the street, forcing Tony to keep up. “Nope, there will be other showings, I’m sure but this is our first date and that only happens once.”

Blushing, Tony protested anyway, not wanting Steve to miss out on something if it was going to be an opportunity to further his artistic career. “Steve, we have lunch almost every day, it’s not a big deal.”

At that, Steve finally came to a stop, turning to face Tony and hold his hand firmly between his. “Tony, my art is just a hobby. Maybe if I hadn’t done my stint with the military first it would be a different story, but please trust me when I say I’m where I want to be.”

Tony honestly had no response for that – it was too earnest and too soon. As much as Tony didn’t know about Steve, there was so much he had hidden from Steve as well. He wouldn’t stick around once he did find out, no one ever did. So he should enjoy this night while he could. Call it his ‘Cinderella experience’ or something.

“Can’t argue with that,” he said, unable to stop from smiling wide and genuine. He would make the most of this date so he would have something nice to look back on during future lonely Friday nights.

The Italian restaurant Steve took them to was nice, nothing too fancy but classy enough that they didn’t stick out in their suits and there were no snide looks when they stuck to Coke and water. Tony was enjoying himself immensely, laughing at Steve’s stories about his rather wild childhood running around the streets of Brooklyn and his love for art.

It was amazing how beautiful he was when he got excited about something and Tony knew that it would be very difficult not to fall for him. It might even be too late.

Tony let Steve do most of the talking, though, because he was starting to feel his cold symptoms returning: a scratchy, sore throat, headache, and sinus pressure. It would be only too obvious if he spoke too much. Steve dropped him off at the auto shop at his insistence where they lingered over a few more of those searing, incredible kisses.

It was the best date he’d been on in years.  

***

He woke to the feeling of Peter launching himself into the bed with him. Was Pepper here already? How long had he slept? Not long enough, he thought, struggling to regain his faculties. God, he felt like crap. His head was pounding like an old familiar hangover and his entire face was about to explode from congestion. He desperately needed to cough, but pushed it down. Not while Pepper was here.

“Daddy! What are you doing in bed still?” Peter asked loudly and it almost made him whimper in pain, clashing against the tender insides of his head.

“I was sleeping, bud, had a late night.” It didn’t stop him from dragging Peter down for a hug, though, crushing him to his chest.

“Us too! We had banana splits after teh movie!”

He looked up at Pepper who was standing in the doorway with one eyebrow raised. “Did you now? Bet that was sweet.” Knowing Peter, it was ten percent banana, twenty percent ice cream, and seventy percent toppings, leaving him 100 percent insane.

“They were delicious,” she replied without any hint of remorse. “I brought breakfast stuff, lazy bones, so get up and be prepared to share.” The last four words were said darkly and Tony laughed. As if he could keep a secret from Pepper.

“Alright, alright, whatever. Give me a few.”

Peter kissed him sloppily on the mouth and launched himself off of the bed, running after Pepper full tilt. Tony smiled at his rambunctious child, but it faded into a grimace as he sat up, feeling the full effects of his illness. He should have taken a few extra minutes to search through the company tow truck for more stray Dayquils or cough drops.

Hiding this from Pepper would be miserable.

He dressed in sweats and a long-sleeve shirt over his sleep tee and hoped the bathroom fan hid the sound of his hacking cough. He looked like crap but he could probably blame it on his night out rather than a cold.

“You look like crap,” Pepper agreed as soon as he walked into the kitchen area. He frowned at her, looking for his mini copycat, thankful that Peter was entranced in cartoons in the other room.

“Late night,” he said, voice rough and crackly.

“You sound terrible, too. What exactly did this date entail?” She pushed him toward the table where both donuts and breakfast burritos were waiting. Once he was seated a cup of coffee was plonked in front of him and he could only turn his most pathetic and grateful pathetic face at her in response. She really was too good to be true sometimes.

“It was fantastic, Pep. We went to Steve’s art gallery, and the man is _talented_ , it was really kinda unbelievable. He should be selling that stuff instead of slinging coffee.”

“More than just a pretty face, then? Good! You need someone with some emotional depth.”

“It was one date. Don’t get crazy with your ideas and stuff. I don’t even know if there’ll be a second one.”

“Uh-huh.” Pepper nodded over her own coffee mug. “Was there any lip on lip action?”

“A bit,” he dodged.

“A bit?”

“A bit.” He couldn’t keep the flush off of his cheeks as he remembered how fiercely Steve had kissed him, the warm press of his body, and the secure feel of his strong arms around him.

“Is it warm in here or is it just you?” Pepper teased, knowing full well what the tinge of pink meant.

“Oh shut up! It was the best date ever and he’s a fantastic kisser and I can’t imagine how great he’d be in bed. Happy now?” He did his best to pout while shoving a burrito in his mouth.

Pepper grinned from ear to ear, equal parts smug and genuinely pleased. “Extremely.”

The rest of the day was full of lounging and snacking and playing games with Peter. They cooked a low key meal of spaghetti and meatballs and he sent Peter to get ready for bed when Pepper announced that she should probably head home.

He walked her to the door where she kissed him on the cheek and said, “Oh, and just a reminder I have some certifications that need to be renewed so I really can’t babysit this week, ok?”

“I remember, Pep. Don’t worry, I can handle my son for a few days without help.” Crap, he’d forgotten.

May was also going to be out of town and he really was on his own again. He should mention to Pepper that he’s 98% sure he has a cold – she’d reschedule to help him out if he asked her to but he’d already racked up a lot of IOU’s to her in the past couple of months.

It was just a cold. He could totally handle it.

“I’m sure you can, and I’m calling anyway to say hi to Peter. Talk to you later Tony.”

“Bye Pep,” he said, shutting the door behind her and walking over to flop face-first onto the couch. He just needed to sleep off the headache and take a scalding hot shower to loosen up the sinus pressure and he’d be ok to go to work the next day. His eyes had barely closed when he sensed a presence next to him.

Squinting one eye open, he looked at his son standing near his head, already in pajamas hugging his dino tightly to him with both hands.

“What’s up, Petey-bug?” He rolled over onto his back, hoping that he wasn’t about to have a tantrum. It was an unfortunate side effect of a mostly rules-free, sugar-filled night with his aunt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Peter asked instead, his eyes wide and pleading.

They wouldn’t be able to finish it before bedtime but Tony was so grateful for a nap opportunity that he’d let it slide this once. “Sure thing, bud. Do you remember how to start one up?”

“Yep!” Peter chirped, bouncing to the television and talking to his dinosaur plush. The next thing Tony knew, he had a toddler spread out on his chest like a giant, somewhat sticky starfish. Peter seemed comfy but he could hardly breathe between the weight and his congestion, so he tilted so he was lying on his side, Peter tucked up in front of him, using one arm as a pillow and the other keeping him from rolling off.

Ahh, better. His headache came back with the motion and he bit back a groan, instead closing his eyes against the bright colors coming from the television. He’d be fine after a bit of rest. Just fine.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a surprise visitor at the coffee shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! This is the chapter that inspired this entire story- it's super long so enjoy! FYI - trying to get back to a regular posting schedule and get this finished. Thanks to everyone who is still reading :)

Steve was on cloud nine on Monday when he reported in for his usual opening shift. Yeah, it was great to see his art in a real gallery atmosphere, but even more important, his date with Tony had gone amazingly well. He couldn’t wait to see him again at lunch today, since he’d spent most of Sunday staring at his rose and sketching Tony in his suit. Under duress, he might admit that there were a few sketches entirely dedicated to his backside.

Nat was in the back checking stock when the bell above the door dinged. Steve looked up from napkin drawing to greet the new customer but there’s no one there. Confused, he chalked it up to someone changing their mind and went back to his mindless masterpiece. He was only a few pencil strokes in when he felt it and glanced down.

A boy standing no higher than Steve’s knee was tugging lightly but insistently on his apron. ­Wide brown eyes peered up at him from under a mess of dark hair. A sense of familiarity wiggled in the back of Steve’s mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly as it came. He didn’t know any kids.

”Hello,” Steve said, trying for something not intimidating and kid-friendly. He wasn’t sure he succeeded because the kid frowned at him, starting to look a little scared. He took a quick glance around the room concerned that there were still no other adults in the House, no parents to be seen.

“Hi,” the little boy said quietly, drawing Steve’s attention back to him. “Are you Steve?” he asked shyly. Steve was taken aback; why was this kid looking for him? Whose kid was this? Steve crouched to one knee on the floor and put on a gentle smile.

“I am! What’s your name, buddy?”

“Peter,” he replied, finally starting to smile a bit.

“Hi Peter, are you here all by yourself?” At the question, Peter seemed to shrink back into himself, tears appearing in his eyes, and his breath hitching. Uh oh, Steve didn’t have a lot of experience with kids and definitely didn’t want to be the cause of some waterworks. He grabbed the kid around the middle and stood, hoisting him up to sit on the counter.

 “Do you want some hot chocolate, Peter?”

“No ‘anks,” Peter shook his head, eyes wandering over everything from his new vantage point. It took Steve a moment but figured out the missing ‘th’ sound. It was pretty adorable.

“My Daddy said you were nice, he was right.”

“You’re Daddy knows who I am?” Peter nodded happily, all signs of tears forgotten for the moment.

“And who is your Daddy?” Steve was wracking his brain but he couldn’t recall any of his friends ever mentioning kids. It was kind of a huge thing to be kept a secret.

Peter’s nose scrunched in confusion. “He’s Daddy.” Right, time to change tactics. When did kids start to realize that their parents had actual names?

“Ok, where’s your mom? Did she drop you off here?” Bad move! Peter’s face got serious and sad again, shaking his head in a fervent no, but not saying a word. “Ok, buddy, it’s ok,” he murmured, surprised by the strength of the urge he felt to hug this strange child.

“My Daddy…” Peter started, taking a moment to sniffle and wipe his nose on his sleeve. “My Daddy won’t wake up and Miss May wasn’t home and I can’t find Daddy’s phone for the ‘nemergence number.” Peter’s lower lip was trembling wildly, so Steve put aside his reservations and wrapped the kid in his arms, rubbing circles on his tiny back through his puffy coat.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, we’re gonna go see if we can help your dad, ok?” He pulled back from the impromptu hug, making sure that Peter wasn’t quite as upset before lifting him back to the ground. “Can you stand here and wait for me? I have to grab my coat before we go.”

Peter nodded. “Can you zip mine, too? I can’t do it by myself yet.”

Steve smiled, felt it stretch his face. This kid was so polite, he couldn’t wait to figure out who his dad was. He bent and found the tiny zipper, noticing for the first time the Captain America caricature across the front. “Is Cap your favorite?”

“Yeah!” Apparently that was the right thing to say to cheer the kid up, as Peter went on an excited tirade about all of his swag. “I have another coat ‘at has a hood ‘at looks like his helmet! Wings and every’ing!”

“Wow, Peter that sounds really cool. You’ll have to show me, ok?” Before the kid could start up again, Steve stuck his head into the storeroom.

“Nat? I’ve got a bit of a situation out here. This kid came in alone, says his dad won’t wake up. I’m going to walk him home and see if there’s a neighbor or if an ambulance needs to be called for the dad.” He said, keeping his voice low so Peter didn’t overhear.

Nat nodded, coming over the peek at the kid who was still babbling despite his lack of audience and exploring the House. “Jesus, I hope not, that looks like more of a baby than a kid.”

“Does he look familiar to you? Like he’s been in here before? He says his dad knows me but I have no idea,” Steve asked, quickly exchanging his apron for his brown leather jacket.

“No, sorry, I’ve never seen that kid before in my life and I don’t think many of our regulars have kids.” She shrugged apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. If Tony comes by, ask him to call me please?” When Steve stepped back into the main area of the House, Peter held up his arms; even a complete noob to childcare like Steve knew what that meant. He happily scooped the little boy up, resting his insignificant weight on his hip.

“Sure thing, loverboy.” Natasha waved and Peter waved happily back with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Steve’s neck. Then they were off with Peter occasionally offering directions but mostly babbling about his Captain America stuff and his love of dinosaurs and yeah, how awesome his dad was. Steve really hoped that there was nothing seriously wrong with the guy, but he was nervous, nonetheless.

He was surprised when the apartment complex Peter led him to was several blocks away. “Peter, you walked all this way by yourself?” Steve was amazed at the little guy’s dedication.

“Yep!” Peter replied proudly. “Daddy works over t’ere, so I know where to go.”

“Your Daddy works by the coffee House?” Steve fumbled his way up the stairs. Who was this mystery parent? Not knowing was actually starting to bother him.

“Yeah, we moved here for Daddy’s new job but we had to get rid of our car. I wish we still had ta car. I hate ta bus. It’s stinky and hot and loud. Even when we lived in ta car, it was better.” Peter’s nose scrunched up in distaste.

Steve’s steps faltered at that. Peter’s family had lived out of their car? He couldn’t imagine that. With a toddler that must have been so hard and for Peter to be so obviously well-adjusted, his parents must be amazingly supportive and loving. Now he really hoped this guy was ok.

Stopping at the upstairs corner unit, he put Peter down and the toddler pulled up his sleeve revealing a red twirly bungee bracelet with a keychain and one key on it. He wiggled his arm until Steve got the picture and pulled it off, using it to unlock and open the door.

He wondered if he should knock or announce himself, he was, after all entering a stranger’s apartment without invitation. Peter barged right in, though, pulling on Steve’s hand to get him to move. Well, without invitation from someone who actually paid rent.

“Shoes and coats go here,” Peter pointed out, putting his shoes in the rubber bin that already held a couple pairs of bright tiny shoes and one larger pair of well-worn work boots. Although it felt weird, Steve toed off his own sneakers, leaving him in his thick white socks on the cheap laminate flooring. Peter actually took Steve’s coat from him and hung it on one of the lower branches of the coat rack. It was so much larger than Peters’ that it brushed against the ground, but Steve didn’t mind.

Looking around, he was taken aback by how cozy and welcoming the small space is. The laminate of the entryway flowed into a small dining and kitchen area where he spied a refrigerator nearly covered in messily scrawled pictures and school assignments. The hallmark of a proud parent.

On the opposite side was a sparsely furnished carpeted living room area. Steve wasn’t one to judge, especially if previous living arrangements involved a car. A bean bag chair was set closer to the small television set, and a matching set of loveseat and recliner bracketed the room. A framed picture standing on the coffee table caught Steve’s attention, but Peter was tugging him rather insistently down the hallway.

Peter let go of his hand at the doorway of the bathroom, scrambling over the man lying prone and motionless on the floor. The bathroom was a long skinny room, with a tub along one side with a sink opposite and a toilet at the far end. It was obvious that the man’s collapse took him by surprise.

The medicine cabinet was flung wide open and a bottle of over the counter pain medication lay on its side on the sink, sparse contents spilled out onto the floor. Steve stepped in, taking note of the man’s bare feet, sweatpants, and t-shirt and the shivers wracking his body.

 _Thank god he isn’t dead_ , Steve thought, heaving a sigh of relief that became strangled as he saw the man’s face. The goatee, the dark curly hair in need of a trim; it was a massive slap to his reality when he recognized Tony. The world had just fallen away from his feet, leaving him floundering.

“Tony?” He whispered. So many things about the man were falling into place; his crazy schedule, his hesitancy to be in a relationship, his secrecy. Peters’ statement about living in the car was suddenly a hundred times more heartbreaking knowing that it was _Tony_ responsible for raising this sweet little boy just on the right side of destitution.

“Daddy? Daddy, please wake up,” Peter was running his hands through Tony’s hair and patting gently at his cheeks, but the misery in his tinny, child voice struck straight through to Steve’s heart.

Rushing into the room, he knelt at Tony’s side grabbing behind his knees and shoulders to lift him off of the hard tile; it was disconcerting how light he was. “Peter, where’s your dad’s room?”

Peter ran ahead, down the hallway to the end door, and pushed it open for Steve. He even turned on the bedside lamp. The bed was perfectly made, like it hadn’t been slept in and the rest of the room was equally vacant of personality. It saddened him, because Tony was so brimming with personality but this, what should be the most personal room in his home, was carefully empty.

He arranged Tony on the bed, tucking the cushy comforter around him and sitting near his hip. The lack of response was worrying. Steve put a hand to Tony’s forehead, noting the lack of sweat. He definitely had a fever, and a significant one at that, but at least the shivering was tapering since he was off of the cold tile of the bathroom. Gently, he felt Tony’s head, searching for any bumps or blood indicating that he hit his head when he collapsed and was relieved when he found nothing.

Peter came over, his head level with Tony’s on the bed. He looked up at Steve and he realized that they were Tony’s large, liquid brown eyes and Tony’s dark bedhead he was seeing on the boy.

“Is Daddy gonna be ok?” Peter asked tremulously. Steve’s heart was doing all sorts of somersaults in his chest; he was falling for Tony’s kid as fast as he’d fallen for Tony himself.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Steve picked Peter up to sit across one thigh so he could see his father, who appeared to be sleeping a little easier in the bed. “How are you?”

Peter’s face scrunched up in thought and he twisted away from where he was watching Tony to face Steve. “Hungry?”

Steve almost laughed. “Oh, right. Let’s get you some food and see if we can get something for your dad, too, ok? What do you want for lunch?”

Peter crawled off of Steve to lean over Tony, kissing him loudly on the mouth. “Feel better soon, Daddy,” he whispered before scrambling down running out of the room shouting, “Mac and cheese!”

Steve lingered a moment longer in Tony’s bedroom, pressing a light kiss of his own to Tony’s slack lips before going to feed his son.

Peter was already getting set up at the table, settled into a booster seat, with a large stuffed green dinosaur that had definitely seen better days in the seat beside his. He had some crayons and paper in front of him, so it looked like Steve was on his own for lunch prep.

He opened cupboards at random, frowning at how empty most of them are until he hit the jackpot. A shelf above the coffee machine contained nothing but boxed mac and cheese. Laughter bubbled out of him uncontrollably. Maybe a bit hysterical but Peter didn’t know the difference.

It was just _so Tony_ to have absolutely no food in his apartment except for his son’s favorite. Well-stocked, too, so that if anything happened his son will still have this one thing that made him happy. The hints at Tony’s financial situation and the state of his kitchen and how hungry Tony sometimes looked all painted a terribly bleak picture in Steve’s head. He wondered how long Tony had been starving himself to feed his child.  

“Is mac and cheese your favorite?” Steve asked, pulling out a box to read the directions. It had been a while since he’d dealt with one of these.

“Mmhmm… Miss May makes it different. Not from a box. It’s good, but I like tis too.”

“Yeah? Who’s Miss May?” He couldn’t help it. There was so much he wanted to know about Tony, so much he didn’t know and Peter was so far the most sociable child he’d ever met.

So Peter proceeded to tell him all about Miss May, the landlord and his sometimes babysitter. She’s one of his favorite people in the whole world and they play at her apartment, go to the park, and have dinner at her house with his Daddy and Aunt Pepper.

Aunt? Tony had a sister? That struck him as extremely odd for some reason.

“Peter, do you know your Aunt’s phone number?” Maybe she could come over and help Steve out with this.

“Teh ‘nemergency numbers are over t’ere,” Peter pointed at the fridge with a tiny, macaroni filled spoon.

Steve spent a few minutes sifting through the many drawings until he found a piece of laminated paper taped to the front of the fridge. Duh. There were several names and phone numbers listed and he scanned through them looking for a ‘Pepper’ although he glared when he saw the first name. Rhodey, Happy, May, Pepper…

The woman who answered sounded frazzled and a little breathless, “I swear Tony, if this is you prank calling me again you can just kiss dinner goodbye and I’ll eat that whole casserole myself. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Umm, hi. No, this is Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m calling about Tony, though.”

“Steve? As in Steve the coffee guy? Hottie McHot Pants Steve?” Disbelief colored her voice.

“Hottie McHot Pants?” He repeated, derailed by that strange, but flattering moniker.

“Don’t ask. Tony has ridiculous nicknames for everyone. Did you really think my parents named me Pepper?” She laughed loudly. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of her good humor, but quickly sobered as he remembered the point of this phone call.

“Right, well, I was working at the House today when Peter stopped by. He’s Tony’s son which is still kind of blowing my mind,” he couldn’t help but point that out, “but Tony has collapsed and is still unconscious actually. I’m at their apartment and found your number on the fridge.”

A shocked silence followed from the other end, but it only lasts a moment. “Oh my god, oh my god! Is Peter ok? He walked all that way by himself?! Why? Right, May’s out of town for the week. Shit! Tony! I knew you were sick, you lying, stupid, frustrating man!”

He let her rant for a little bit before interrupting with a loud throat clearing. “Peter’s fine and I’m not going to leave until Tony’s up or someone else gets here. I just don’t really know what to do about Tony. I’m sure he has a fever with chills but there’s not much here in the way of supplies.” That and he had never really taken care of a sick person before or a child and he was feeling way out of his depth.

“Ok, I’ll be over with supplies when my shift is over in a couple hours. Go ahead and crush up two Tylenol into some orange juice, I know he keeps that on hand for Peter – he’s in an orange food phase – and see if you can get him to drink it. Keep his feet warm and his head cool. That’s all I can say without being there.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Steve felt better just having someone tell him what to do. And to think, he used to lead troops in war….

“Thanks so much, Steve. I can’t imagine what could have happened to Peter or Tony if he hadn’t found you.” The gratitude and relief in Pepper’s voice had Steve blushing slightly.

“It’s really no problem. I care a lot about Tony and Peter’s quickly winning me over,” he chuckled.

“He does that. I have no idea how two personalities like Tony and Ronnie managed to make such a sweet child. Anyway, I have to get back to my shift, I’ll see you shortly.”

He managed to get out a polite ‘goodbye’ but his mind was still poring over the phrase ‘Tony and Ronnie.’ So Ronnie was Peter’s mother and the reason Tony couldn’t set foot in a hospital. The curiosity was eating at his soul, but he could never in a million years ask a child about his obviously-absentee mother.

Shaking his head, he focused on the task at hand. Peter was still happily munching on his lunch, so he grabbed some Tylenol from the bathroom floor and poured a glass of orange juice, adding in the pills after crushing them with a spoon.

“Peter, did you put any of the pills in the bathroom in your mouth? Or take them to your room?” It hadn’t occurred to him before, but he should probably pick the rest of them up before Peter did find them interesting.

“No, Aunt Pepper says never eat t’ose unless she or Daddy tell me to.”

Steve ruffled Peter’s hair. “Good job, soldier.” Peter grinned up at him around his spoon and it was possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I’m going to go sit with your dad for a minute, ok? You call me if you need me, ok?”

“Ok, Steve!” Peter chirped, attention quickly back to his conversation with his stuffed dinosaur.

“And chew carefully!” He added, suddenly wondering if it was safe to leave a toddler alone while they ate. It probably wasn’t, but Tony needed him, too. This was overwhelming. Deciding that he would move quickly and check on Peter as soon as he could, he took the doctored juice to Tony’s room. To make this easier, he sat near the headboard and pulled Tony against his chest so he was sitting up a bit. It was upsetting to see Tony’s slack face and to have his head lolling against his shoulder.

“Tony, hey. It’s Steve, can you wake up, please? Just for a minute?” He spoke loudly, jostling him slightly and patting his cheeks. He wanted Tony to be just a little more conscious before dumping liquid down his throat. Didn’t want him to choke.

His efforts were rewarded when Tony’s eyelids fluttered and he looked dazedly around the room. There was no focus, though, and his eyes were red and glassy. He truly looked miserable. How did he get so bad between Saturday and now? “Huh?”

“Here Tony, drink some orange juice, ok? You’ll feel better I promise.” Steve held the glass against Tony’s lips and eventually he seemed to understand and started to drink. He stopped a few times, but Steve cajoled him into finishing the glass.

“You did so good Tony, thank you,” he said, moving to lay Tony back down, but his words went unheard as Tony was quickly unconscious again. Hopefully this time it was a healing sleep, though, and not true unconsciousness.

Now, to check on Peter again. He brought the glass back out to the kitchen and was relieved to see Peter still alive and well, mac and cheese demolished. “All done?”

“Yep! How’s Daddy? Did you make him better?”

“Still working on that, would you like to help?” He lifted Peter out of his booster seat, _how the heck did the kid get up there to begin with?_ Then he gathered the dishes and placed them in the sink to deal with when Peter’s aunt arrived. He checked his watch. Only another hour until she was off of work, then however long it took her to get here… he could do this. No sweat.

“Yeah! Dino can help, too!”

Steve smiled, Peter was a good kid. “Ok, where does your dad keep the washcloths?”

“Bafroom,” Peter said, promptly leading the way down the hall. Steve followed and set Peter to the task of finding a washcloth while he gathered all the spilled pills on the floor. “Here, you go.” Peter held out a well-used light purple washcloth that he took with a smile, just now noticing that most of the towels were the same shade of purple. Interesting.

Purple didn’t really seem like Tony’s color.

“Thanks Peter, good job. Do you see any more of these?” He held out one of the white tablets for his inspection. Peter shook his head before looking intently at the floor, searching and Steve ran the cloth under cool water, wringing it mostly dry. He jerked his head at Peter to follow him and they went back into Tony’s room.

Peter flung himself on the bed, narrowly avoiding Tony’s legs and somehow Steve knew that Tony was the type to let his kid crawl all over him all the time. Steve sat next to Tony’s hip, the bed dipping slightly in his direction. He folded the cloth up and started wiping gently at Tony’s face, temples, neck, and the bit of chest he could see. It probably wasn’t helping to cool him much, he was burning up and Steve could feel the heat warming up the cloth. He laid it across his forehead and looked at Peter.

The kid looked worried, sitting cross-legged up by Tony’s head, arms firmly wrapped around his stuffed dinosaur, but less so than when he’d come into the House. That was good, right?

“Ok, socks next!” Steve remembered that Tony was barefoot and Pepper said to keep his feet warm. He stood, looking to Peter for direction, who pointed a tiny finger at the tall chest of drawers near the door.

“Top one.”

Steve felt a moment of hesitation before pulling open Tony’s drawer but really couldn’t think of any way to preserve Tony’s privacy in this situation. Inside it was split, one side full of rolled up sock pairs and the other was, _wow, a lot_ of red underwear. Wait, was that – ?!

He snatched a pair of socks and slammed the drawer shut in a hurry. Thinking about Tony wearing nothing but a fire engine red thong wasn’t what he needed right now.

He whirled to face Peter hoping that his cheeks weren’t also red, but Peter just stared up at him guilelessly, snuggled up against Tony’s side. “Why socks?” He asked, thumb of one hand dipping briefly into his mouth before he chomped down on his dinosaur instead.

“Your Aunt Pepper said we should keep your dad’s feet warm and his head cool, so socks!”

“Makes sense,” Peter replied, probably parroting some phrase he’d heard around and sounding much older than he was.

Steve smiled and pulled back the blankets to find Tony’s bare feet. It struck him as a little intimate to be putting socks on Tony, but maybe that was just him being weird and taking the opportunity to feel and remember the seemingly delicate structure of his ankles.

He needed to have serious self-reflection when he got home; never before had he thought someone’s feet could be attractive or that he had any interest in colorful satin underwear. But hey – maybe he’d been defining himself as a solider for too long. It was time to get back to being _Steve_ , whoever that was now.

“Wanna watch Finding Nemo?”

“Does your dad let you watch tv?”

“Yeah! We watch Nemo all teh time!”

“Ok, sounds good to me.” Steve was rewarded with a huge grin and a squeal of excitement and followed Peter back to the living room. The kid was surprisingly adept at turning on the electronics and getting the movie ready. Definitely Tony’s kid.

After starting up the movie, Steve settled on the couch and Peter clambered up next to him without hesitation. Steve didn’t know what to do with his arms, Peter was pressed so close, but he didn’t know if he should put that arm around him, was that too weird? Too soon? So he grabbed the photo from the coffee table that had drawn his attention earlier.

It took a moment for Steve to process what he was looking at, too focused on Tony’s form in the photo. He was wearing the navy suit he’d worn for their date, but he filled it out even better, if that was possible. No beard, and his hair was styled, a little shorter than how he had it now, less curly, but he was smiling. No smile Steve had ever seen, it was the biggest, happiest smile that crinkled his eyes and nose. He looked healthy, glowing and tan in the sun. His arms were wrapped around a woman, blonde and leggy in a short lilac sundress. Her smile matched Tony’s and her arms were around him as well. _Oh_ , was this – ?

“T’at’s my Mama,” Peter spoke up from next to him, one finger smudging the glass as he pointed at the woman he was staring at. “At t’eir wedding. Daddy says it was a big day. And T-tat’s Uncle Rhodey!”

Steve turned his attention to the man standing beside Tony in the photo, Air Force dress blues pressed and sharp. He was smiling, too - all teeth and warm eyes, one hand clasped on Tony’s shoulder and the other out of the frame.

Not competition, then, he thought with relief.

“Uncle?” He inquired, because there’s really no way this man was biologically related to Tony.

“Yep! He’s my favorite uncle! He’s been Daddy’s best friend FOR-ever. He flies planes!” It was obvious that the man’s occupation won him serious brownie points in Peter’s eyes.

“Wow, that is really cool. And who’s that?” He pointed to the last person in the photo, a reddish-haired taller woman before he realized he didn’t have to ask. It was the angry nurse from the hospital from the night of Thor’s party. 

His stomach tightened in anxiety at Peter’s response. “Aunt Pepper!” She looked a great deal friendlier in the picture, caught mid-laughter with her arms around Peter’s mother, hugging her from the side. He was going to ask Peter more about his, frankly quite intimidating aunt, when he heard a key in the front door.

Peter was off the couch in less than a second, launching himself at Pepper before she’d fully entered, squealing happily, “Aunt Pepper!”

She seemed prepared though, snatching him midair and pulling him in for a hug and a loud kiss. “Petey-bug! How are you?”

Steve stood slowly, not sure what his welcome will be from this formidable woman who was apparently very involved in Tony’s life. Pepper managed to remove her shoes and coat and put down her knapsack while Peter hung onto her neck, chattering away.

“And Steve helped put Daddy to bed! Gonna make him better, he said.” With that, Pepper finally seemed to notice him, but to his surprise she smiled at him. Kind and warm, and he found himself returning it.

“Hi,” he said, a little awkwardly.

Pepper put Peter down and came over to Steve and hugged him without preamble. “Thank you, Steve, for being here for my family today. I was so worried when you said Peter had walked all the way down to the House. Who knows what could have happened to him, he’s just a baby, and Tony…Tony!”

She released him suddenly, darting for her knapsack and rushing into the bedroom with Peter and Steve both hot on her heels. Steve lingered in the doorway, watching Peter settle himself in in his usual spot with Pepper perched daintily on the edge of the bed, pulling things from her bag.

First, she popped a thermometer in Tony’s ear and the reading made her purse her lips into an unhappy flat line. Then she attached a blood pressure cuff to Tony’s lax arm, sighing heavily when she got the results.

“Tony, you selfless moron.” He heard her murmur to herself and he had to hide his smile behind his hand. So he wasn’t the only one who thought so. She pulled out a clear bag and an IV kit and tightened a tourniquet around Tony’s bicep before inserting a needle into his elbow and securing it with some tape. She hung the bag off of its stretchy band around one of the posts of the headboard and made sure the line was free of twists before opening the gauge.

“What is that?” Steve asked. His mom had been a nurse, but it had been ages since he’d seen one at work.

“Just a basic banana bag. Fluids and electrolytes to help get his blood pressure back to normal. I’ve got a couple with me and we’ll probably need both before he regains consciousness.” She packed away the discards of her supplies and grabbed the rag off of Tony’s forehead, running her fingers through his hair fondly. She turned to him and smiled tiredly. “Luckily, I brought dinner though, for when he wakes up. And I hope you’ll stick around to join us.”

He checked his watch, noting that his shift at the House was just about over anyways. “Yeah, I can stick around. Should probably call my coworker, though and let her know what’s going on.”

“If it’s someone who knows Tony, go ahead and tell them everything. Tony being a stubborn asshole is what got him into this mess in the first place. If they’re willing to help with sick-watch, that’s even better. Tony needs more babysitting than Peter when he’s sick.” She pointed at Tony’s unresponsive form. “Obviously.”

Steve hesitated, but ultimately agreed. All of their friends adored Tony and it was a common complaint that he was too private and too touchy about being helped. “Alright, I’ll just step outside and be back soon.”

He was nearly to the door when Peter caught up to him, tugging on his pant leg. “Steve! When you’re done, can we play?”

He was pleasantly surprised at the request. He’d never really been around kids before and didn’t think he was all that fun. “You want to play with me?”

Peter nodded vigorously, almost vibrating in place with energy. “Oh, of course, yes. Let’s play. Give me just a couple minutes, ok?”

“Ok!” With that, the toddler ran back, presumably to his room to gather supplies for whatever he had planned for the two of them.

Steve stepped outside and leaned against the metal railing that was just starting to chip paint. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke to anyone. Tony had a kid.

_Tony had a kid!_

At one point, he’d had a wife! He really needed to build up the guts to ask about that, too. She obviously wasn’t around anymore but what did that mean? Had she left? Had she died? He didn’t want to be insensitive by asking, but he was just as afraid of saying something horrible on accident to upset Tony and his little family.

Tony and Peter had also lived out of a car at some point, which made him want to break down and cry. A small part of him whined that he’d fought and given so much for this country that obviously hadn’t given back enough to keep hard-working, amazing people like Tony off the streets. What was it even worth at that point?

He wrenched his thoughts away from there; _danger! Abort!_ There wasn’t anything he could do about the past, but he could make Tony’s life easier now, in any way that he could. They weren’t even officially boyfriends, not after a string of misunderstandings and one successful date but Steve was committed. Tony drew him in like a moth to flame and Steve would bask in that light and heat and magnificence for as long as he could. It didn’t matter that Tony had a kid; Peter was wonderful and Steve didn’t know he could like kids so much.

He just had to convince Tony that was the case.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI - It usually takes me about 2 weeks for an update cuz life is busy :)


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